


This Rage is the One Thing I Get from my Father

by keeping_up_with_the_morningstars



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Amenadiel is the uncle we all deserve, Dan deserves a life supply of pudding, F/M, Linda needs a spa day, Lucifer is dad of the year, Maze is a bloodthirsty wine aunt, Sabrina Morningstar, Sabrina is tired of Lucifer Morningstars showing up and claiming to be her father, So her so-called devil partner has a so-called witch daughter, Spoilers for Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018) Season 2, The detective is one hundred percent done, Zelda just wants to build an empowering high-functioning Church, is that too much to ask?, yeah sounds about right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-06-28 03:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeping_up_with_the_morningstars/pseuds/keeping_up_with_the_morningstars
Summary: When Sabrina Spellman decided to leave Greendale to escape the aftermath of her father's evil, Los Angeles was the last place she'd have thought to unveil angels and demons and divinity.With power in her hands and revenge on her mind, she jets off to California to decide her next move before marching back into hell to set things right. What she didn't expect, however, was a relentless nightclub owner to show up and completely change her plans the same way she changed his sixteen years ago.---In which Sabrina just wanted a few days away from witches and demons and magic, but ended up with a clueless father, angelic uncle, and very confused detective, instead.





	1. Greendale is not Greendale Anymore

Greendale wasn’t Greendale anymore, and Sabrina Spellman _(_ “ _Morningstar,”_ the voice in her head corrected begrudgingly. _“This is who you are now.”)_ was at a loss on how to call such an unfamiliar place home again. The mortuary was empty most days, with Aunt Zelda building the newly-formed Church of Lilith from the ground where Blackwood’s poisoned institution once stood, and Aunt Hilda still yet to return from her trip to find a safe place for the young witches and warlocks who lost so much in the Academy’s destruction. Even Ambrose forgot to call home every now and then, caught up more than any of them in bringing the former High Priest to his knees.

Sure, they were all off in their separate ways, but Sabrina was proud of each and every one of them. Who would have thought that the pariahs of the witching world would be the ones to save them all in the end? Still, it did nothing to lessen the loneliness of going home to an empty house, dining at an empty table, and falling asleep to the empty sounds of untouched bedrooms and cold coffee _(just the way Zelda liked it, black and bitter, waiting next to the morning news. It didn’t matter if an unread stack was getting ready to topple over on the kitchen counter. Sabrina would always make sure a fresh copy was added everyday)_.

Sometimes Zelda called from her new office _(“Of course the High Priestess needs to have her own wing, child. Don’t be ridiculous.”)_ , or Hilda from the confusing cellular phone that Dr. Cerberus taught her to use _(“I don’t understand. So it’s a very expensive telephone that also takes photos?”)._ Most times, though, it was Sabrina who found herself dialling their numbers in the dead of night, sometimes falling asleep with the telephone pressed against her cheek, just comforted by the warmth of their voices.

Days went by slowly, with no Academy to run to, and no Nick to hold her hand when the loneliness hit her like a truck everytime the sun went down. Her friends tried to visit her when they could, but their lives didn’t revolve around her, she knew that much. They had school and family and problems of their own, and sometimes, in the back of her mind, she felt as though it was safer to distance herself from them, too. It wasn’t exactly the best idea to have three mortals attach themselves to the hip of Satan’s literal spawn. Slowly, she would learn to let them go. Not today, though. She wasn’t ready for that yet. Maybe in a few months, a few years _(a few lifetimes, if I could),_ but not today.

So it was that fateful Friday night when she found herself sprawled in bed, eyes glued to the ceiling as Salem walked in circles around the room, restless in the growing silence. Tomorrow would bring no Baxter High, no Academy, no aunties or Ambrose, no Nick, no Harvey, Roz, or Suzie. No different than today. With a sigh, she buried her head under the covers and beckoned her familiar to lay by her feet. If change truly was inevitable in the young witch’s life, then perhaps it was time to make some changes of her own.

Greendale wasn’t Greendale anymore, and Sabrina _Morningstar_ was running out of reasons to stay.

* * *

It didn’t take much to convince her aunties to let her go on vacation. No one was going to argue the fact that Sabrina could handle herself quite well, and with her father effectively sealed back up in hell, nobody was going to bring her any trouble that she couldn’t handle. Besides, the girl deserved a much-needed change of scenery after all the nightmares she witnessed in their sleepy old town, even for just a few days.

The flight was shorter than she expected, though the feeling of hovering thousands of feet above ground was a different kind of magic than flying above her house with an old broomstick. Nick would’ve found it jarring, but would have marvelled with her all the same. Her heart clenched at the thought, and she quickly pushed it out of her mind. Painful as it was to admit, she escaped Greendale, even just for a little while, to run from the mess the past month left behind. And in the middle of that mess was her selfless, caring, wonderful boyfriend who took her heart with him when he disappeared out of her life, possibly forever.

If she wanted to keep her sanity intact, she had to escape him, too _(Not for long, though. She would bring him home, if that place still existed, even if it killed her)._

As she followed the steady stream of passengers who exited into the airport, one of the attendants asked for her I.D. (as was customary) and she handed over her passport, one that her aunties had issued for her when she first mentioned her trip a couple weeks back. The man took it with a smile, though it quickly faded when he read her name out loud with a quirk of his brow. “Sabrina… _Morningstar?_ ”

It was odd, that much she could admit, but a lot of witches and warlocks all over their sleepy town and beyond did not agree with her Aunt Zelda’s ideas regarding the reformation of their Church. Though there was no real threat against them, her aunties believed that it was best to hide any ties to the Spellman family for the time being, at least while she was away from the safe wards and protection spells of Greendale. Besides, not many people knew about her true parentage, and if they did dare seek her out, the thought of using her actual name would never cross their mind.

For once, she was glad that Nick had her father trapped in hell. Heavens knew she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she took his name, albeit temporarily.

“Yes, I’m Sabrina Morningstar,” she edged out in a clipped voice, smile just as forced as the way the name rolled off her tongue.

The man looked confused, then amused, then impossibly polite once again. “Alright, Ms. Morningstar.”

He handed back the travel document with a smile, and she pocketed it quickly. This place seemed a hundred miles closer to the sun, if it was possible, and the newfound heat was something she was yet to grow accustomed to. There were a million things left to do before she could find the relief she’s been chasing after (hail a cab, find a decent hotel, get some lunch that doesn’t taste like plane peanuts), but still. She was here, and she was free, and she had all the time in the world ( _“Just one week, Sabrina, and then you come home,”_ Aunt Zelda’s voice echoed in her head) to figure things out before she dove headfirst into the problems that always seemed to trail after her. One way or another, she was going to find herself, and inevitably find her peace. And something inside her gave her the notion that this _– this –_ is the place to do it all.

“Welcome to Los Angeles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wondered why there were no Lucifer and Sabrina cross-over fics, so I decided to write one, myself. Let's face it, Lucifer Morningstar as a dad would be a total riot. Not to mention if he has a daughter who's 100% done with devils showing up and claiming to be her father.
> 
> This stemmed from a headcanon one rainy afternoon, which consumed my thoughts for hours until it eventually grew into this half-assed fanfic. Bear with me, folks, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.


	2. Close, But Not Quite

_The devil’s daughter in the City of Angels._ Sabrina almost scoffed at the thought, but in truth, the irony of it wasn’t lost on her. Admittedly, the irony alone made the spot more appealing when she first set out to find a place to get away. Not to mention, the glaring heat and sandy beaches stood in such contrast to the gloomy weather and still rivers of Greendale that it was almost impossible to resist the promise of a place that could take her mind off of everything she’s ever known.

As the sun was beginning to set, she found herself wandering aimlessly around a random park, the single suitcase she bothered to pack sitting heavy in her hand as she drank in the fading colors of the sky. Normally, she always had a plan. Which spell to study, what tea to make, which record to play as she did the dishes. But surprisingly, for the first time in her life, she found her mind drawing up a blank on what to do next. Maybe after all the surprises the universe sent her way these past few months, she finally came to terms with the futility of making any plans, at all. Or maybe, _just maybe,_ she was merely an exhausted young girl who eventually grew tired of figuring everything out.

And so, when the taxi driver asked where she wanted to go, she simply leaned back against the cracked leather seat and asked for somewhere with a good view of the jagged skyline.

The park was a modest choice, sitting on some obscure hilltop with well-trimmed trees and colorful flowers along the pathway. Quite quickly, she was able to find a spot for herself on one of the benches scattered across the place, and in a matter of minutes, her nose was tucked into a worn copy of _An Exploration of the Lilim: Demonic Invocations and Incantations._ It was hardly her first choice for pleasure reading, though Aunt Zelda snuck it into her bag at the last minute and left behind the collection of sensible poetry that she planned to bring. _(“Oh, I’m afraid you’re running late for your flight. What a shame, no time to change it back. You’ll just have to make do, Sabrina.”)_

Surprisingly, the text wasn’t an absolute bore, and she was reluctantly engrossed. Just as she was about to finish the first chapter, however, she felt a sudden chill down her spine as a gun was pointed directly at her forehead, rough and cool against her skin. The man holding on to it did not look the part of a criminal, dressed in everyday clothes no different than the hordes of people she came across in the few hours she traveled Los Angeles. She sensed a vulnerability to him, though, as if he had no other choice _(You had a choice, and you chose to hold death in your hands)._

With a defiant look in her eye, she held his gaze pointedly as she crossed her arms and quirked up a single brow. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Look, lady. Just give me your purse.” His eyes darted back and forth around them, a fear buried deep in his gut that someone might see. _(“There’s no one else to fear around here,” Sabrina thought, chagrined that fate played its hand so early. If the forces of the universe were truly adamant on bringing hell wherever she went, then she must remind them that it would not break her. Hell was her birth right, after all. “I am your every fear brought to life.”)_

She pursed her lips. “No.”

He pulled the safety down, but she didn’t flinch at the slightest. “I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

The young girl held up a hand and the clouds began to darken, lightning dancing ominously against the sky. “Well, I’m giving you one.” Head quirked to the side, she regarded him curiously. He was trying hard to keep up the tough and violent façade, but she could sense him cracking. A month ago, she would have pitied the man.

But now? Well, he simply caught her at the wrong time.

“Drop the gun and walk away, or find out for yourself why everyone’s so scared of powerful women.”

Weak laughter bubbled from his mouth, but it was of the hesitant kind. His shifting eyes and shaking hands gave him away. “You think you’re so powerful, bitch?”

With a pointed glare, the gun flew into the hand resting at Sabrina’s side, and the thief’s clothes burst into flames, bright and blue as the fire that claimed the Greendale 13. With a smirk, she watched as the man erupted into screams, his knees giving way and bringing him down to the ground as he rolled around in the dirt, hoping to put the fire out. She crouched down to his level and looked him in the eye, the sheer terror in his meeting the cool indifference in hers. “ _Witch._ I think you meant to say _powerful witch._ ”

“You’re the devil,” he ground out through gritted teeth, tears beginning to pool no matter how hard he tried to keep them from falling.

“Close.” She nodded her head, seemingly in agreement with his words. The girl hated the way her chest swelled at the thought, hated how the fear in his voice drowned out her mother’s smile and the moral compass that came with it. “Close, but not quite.”

However, the young woman was not able to revel in her satisfaction for very long when an ambulance and a police car suddenly showed up out of the blue. In a blink of an eye, she was quickly pulled away by a man dressed in all black with a simple blue jacket. He grabbed the firearm that was still held loosely in her hand and pocketed it immediately, all the while keeping a firm hold on her elbow. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re gonna have to come with me.”

Sabrina struggled against his grip, but he leveled her with a gaze that said he wasn’t to be trifled with. There was a fear in his eyes, too _(it was very rare that she met anyone who didn’t look at her with fear these days),_ but a kindness shone in them, still. With a huff of her breath, she relented and let him lead her from the thief whose screams still echoed in her head even as he was carried away by the medics. With a surprisingly gentle voice _(Tired. You are not capable of gentleness. You’re just tired)_ , she asked, “Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

He gave her a good hard look. When some random park-goer made a call to the station that there was an altercation involving a gun between a teenager and a man in his 20s, he expected the usual bout of juvenile delinquency they encountered almost everyday. The caller didn’t go into much detail, quickly hanging up in a panic (he was left scratching his head at the sudden shout of _“Good God, he’s on fire!”_ but learned to push it aside), so he just assumed it was the everyday case of hostility between a drug dealer and some teenage junkie. To his surprise, however, he was met with the scene of a very calm and put-together young woman holding a gun in her hand while she watched a man get eaten away by flames, unfazed as if she was unimpressed with how slowly he burned.

Still, even as he kept a tight hold on her, she didn’t seem the least bit inclined to run, entirely unlike the brunt of flighty teenagers who were willing to jump every fence in their way as soon as they saw a squad car. She was young, that much was clear, but there was an age in the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly as if she carried a heavy weight. She may very well have been a pyromaniac who burned people alive, but she was also a child.

He sighed as he pulled a pair of cuffs from his back pocket and locked her hands into place. “I’m just here to sort all this out.”

She didn’t make a sound as he led her to the back seat of the car and closed the door behind her. Even as he loaded up the rest of her things in the trunk and began to drive them back to the station, she stayed silent as a grave. He wondered what was going on in her head.

“Hey, we’ll fix things, alright?” He gave her a look through the rear-view mirror. Her head was in her hands and she looked conflicted at best. “What’s your name, kid?”

She looked up with a resolute tilt of her chin. “Sabrina.”

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, storing the name in his mind. She seemed like a lovely girl, though there was something eerie, almost chilling, about her. Earlier, when he went to pick up her things, there was a book lying open by her bags that was filled with all kinds of demonic symbols and unfamiliar text. At the back of his mind, he wondered if it had something to do with the spontaneous combustion of the man at the park. Quickly though, he shook the thought away. He was not a religious man, but he didn’t believe in the existence of the occult, either.

“Well, just sit tight, Sabrina. We’re almost at the station.”

He looked at her again, and this time, she met his gaze. There was something familiar in her eyes that he couldn’t place. They blazed, in a way, and seemed to be able to search the depths of his soul. He shivered at the thought and quickly looked away, trying to break the edge by engaging in his usual awkward small talk.

“By the way, before I forget, my name’s Dan.” He shot her a kind yet apprehensive smile. “Detective Dan Espinoza, LAPD.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this got dark real quick. I honestly set out to write this fic as a freaking fluff fest, but the words had a mind of their own and formed themselves into this depressing pit. Sheesh. Anyway, though this is moving faster than expected, at least the ball's already rolling and the plot is beginning to run its course. Hopefully, you guys will be able to see the next part of the story unfold by the weekend. That is, if you show a lot of love and support in the comments *eyes you pleadingly*.
> 
> By the way, huge thanks to the folks who left kudos and kind words in the first chapter. You guys are the absolute best. And here I was, thinking I would be the only one enjoying this obscure crossover! Till next time, guys <3


	3. Preferred Method of Torture

“Again? She couldn’t possibly have-” Chloe closed her eyes in exasperation as Trixie’s principal called her for possibly the 3rd time that week. The middle-aged woman at the other end of the line was a pleasant enough presence when your child was being praised for exemplary behavior, but once your daughter starts “acting out” _(Linda’s words, not hers)_ , she hoped against all hope that the school head would find her way to an early retirement by the next month or so.

“Alright, her dad will be there soon. Thank you.” With a hard sigh, the detective ended the call and pocketed the phone in a swift motion.

Her daughter was a nice girl, raised with a sound set of values and discipline. Save for the occasional sugar rush and exploits in the name of chocolate cake, Trixie _never_ got in trouble. But ever since some new kid transferred to her school and started picking on her, a few of Maze’s child-friendly self defense techniques _(God knew if those even existed)_ made a surprise appearance and shocked the school administration to their core. She couldn’t fault her eccentric roommate, though. Deep down, Chloe was glad that Trixie was learning to stand up for herself. She just hoped that her daughter would do it in a way that didn’t have to hurt anybody else.

“Why so glum, detective? Has there been another murder? It’s been a while since we’ve had a good murder.” In his usual disregard for personal space, her partner was already hot on her heels as she marched her way to Dan’s desk, her jaw set in annoyance. Most of the time, she would have found Lucifer’s behavior tolerable, or amusing, even. But at that moment, with his confident strides and trademark grin, she couldn’t stand the unnecessary amounts of enthusiasm.

She shook her head and spoke in a tone that any overly-inquisitive five year old would be familiar with. “No, Lucifer. That was Trixie’s principal. She wants us to bring Trixie home from their classes’ overnight camp.”

“Oh.” Immediately, his face fell and she could sense his interest slipping by the second. “What has the little beast gotten herself into this time?”

The detective rolled her eyes. If it were anyone else, she would have snapped at their audacity to insult her daughter, but remembering that it was Lucifer _(“Oh, don’t take it personally. I hate all children in general, not just yours.”)_ , she learned to bite her tongue on the whole matter a long time ago. “Nothing you should concern yourself with. I’m just gonna ask Dan to pick her up since I’m still waiting on an update on the Brenner case and I can’t leave this early.”

Thankfully, the only sound that came out of his mouth after that was a hum of acknowledgement, probably grateful that he didn’t have to feign concern for the child anymore. It was probably better that way, too. She didn’t think she could handle another one of his condescending rants about the many ways that kids ruin people’s lives.

Soon enough, she caught sight of Dan slumped over on his chair, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Her ex-husband was hardly the most energetic person in their precinct, but even she had to admit that he looked more tired than usual.

“Hey Dan, got a minute?”

It took him a second to answer, torn between continuing his work and answering what was probably another one of Chloe’s favors. It didn’t seem to be much of a debate, however, when he quickly nodded his head and got up from his desk not a moment later. “Sure. What can I help you with?”

Chloe frowned in concern. “Are you sure you’re not busy? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Dan sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s probably not even a big deal, but I just got back from the park on this armed altercation call and I’ve got this teenage girl in custody. I know there’s nothing new about these things, but it’s the girl, alright? There’s something off about her.”

“Letting a child delinquent drive you crazy, Daniel? I suppose that’s a new low even for you.” Lucifer barely made an effort to hide his amusement as Dan seethed in irritation.

“You don’t get it man, okay? It’s hard to explain. I still have to question her and get a word from the witnesses before I make sense of everything.”

Chloe placed a comforting hand on his shoulder to try to relax him. “Calm down, Dan. Lucifer and I will handle it, alright? In the meantime, would you please bring Trixie home from school? I’d do it myself, but I still have some work to do.”

“Principal called again?” He asked with a quirk of his brow, already knowing the answer.

The other detective merely nodded her head in response and Dan let out a breath. “Alright, I’ll pick her up.” He swiped his car keys from the desk and placed it in his back pocket, seemingly ready to go. Chloe thought that he would make a move to leave, but surprisingly, he remained glued to the floor, a conflicted look on his face as he stared off into space.

“Dan?”

He shook his head. “It’s just-” He shot the confused pair a look. “Be careful with the kid, okay? She seems like a nice girl, just really...troubled.”

Chloe gave him a sympathetic look. She knew how he felt. He probably thought about their own daughter when he had to bring the girl into custody, knowing full well that good kids could easily fall down a rabbit hole with just a bit of misguidance. “We won’t give her a hard time.”

Dan still looked unsettled, but the thought seemed to be out of his mind. “Okay.” He exhaled sharply. “Okay. Her stuff is on my desk. I haven’t gone through them yet, but let me know what you find.”

Lucifer knew that Dan wasn’t the most interesting mortal his father could have created, but the sad man was reaching record levels in his capacity to suck the life out of someone. This conversation alone felt like an entirely new circle of hell. “Alright already, Detective Douche. Treat the girl like the child she is, yadda yadda. We get it. Now shouldn’t you be somewhere else by now?”

The detective shot Lucifer a narrowed look but said nothing more, and short of a few choice words muttered under his breath, he made a relatively uneventful exit. Lucifer sighed in relief once Dan was out of sight.

Chloe shook her head as she began to pull on her latex gloves. “You should really stop giving him a hard time.”

Lucifer scoffed in response. “Oh please, he’s got thick skin. He’ll be fine.”

The detective picked up the half-written report on Dan’s desk and read through the text. “It says here that the teenage girl was with a man in his 20’s at the Ridgeview park. They were apparently in some sort of argument, and one of them had a gun. It’s still unclear who it belongs to, but someone saw the firearm and called in the disturbance.” Chloe set the paper down and shot her partner a confused look. “I don’t know why Dan’s so worked up over this. It seems like a pretty straightforward case to me.”

“Nonsense, detective.” Lucifer held the paper in his hands and set it under his gaze. “There must have been something about the case that made Daniel tick. He may be a simpleton, but he’s seen a lot of things. It’s not so easy to unsettle that man.”

A few seconds of silent reading suddenly made him look up at the detective with a triumphant grin. “Aha! Here it is. In the middle of the fight, the man allegedly caught on fire, but there was nothing at the scene that could have driven him to combustion, and with blue flames, no less. That’s when Dan arrived and saw the girl with the aforementioned gun in her hand, watching the poor bloke burn to death.”

He pursed his lips and mulled over the thought. “I must admit, that’s quite impressive. I’ve yet to see a mortal burn with hellfire in Los Angeles.”

“I’m sorry. Hellfire?”

Lucifer shot his partner an excited smile. “Why, yes. If you would look at this photo here,” he flipped to the back of the folder and pointed to a graphic picture of the man loaded inside the ambulance, skin still on fire despite being coated in extinguisher foam. “This fool is clearly being eaten alive by hellfire. Hottest flame in existence, nearly impossible to put out. I should know how it works; it’s one of my preferred methods of torture, after all.”

Chloe raised her eyebrows in a way that usually responded to her partner’s _I’m-the-king-of-hell_ delusions. “Right.”

“I’m not going to lie, I’m really excited to meet this young lady, detective. This might just be our most intriguing case yet.”

The detective merely rolled her eyes as she began patting down the bags in Dan’s desk. “Definitely not a runaway.” She opened up the old suitcase and made note of the clothes and personal toiletries, nothing that said she was escaping her family or moving to a place of permanence. Next, she zipped open the small purse and dug out a boarding pass and some travel documents. “I’d say we’ve got a little tourist in our hands.”

As she scanned over the girl’s passport for any personal information, her eyes widened marginally and she had to shut the little booklet to a close.

“Well, detective? Don’t keep a poor devil waiting.” Lucifer chuckled, making a move to grab the passport from her hands but she quickly turned away and held it farther from his reach. “I’d hardly think this behavior appropriate, Detective.”

“This might not be such a good idea, Lucifer.”

The nightclub owner let out a little huff of annoyance and crossed his arms. “What the heavens are you going on about, woman?”

Chloe dropped down on to Dan’s chair and tried to think logically. She soon found out that it simply wasn’t possible.

_(Sabrina Morningstar. Her name is Morningstar. Lucifer said none of his family carried his name, and yet here was a girl sitting in a room a few feet away from them with the same words defining her identity. If it was merely a coincidence, then it was almost too good to be true.)_

“Lucifer, I need you to be honest with me.”

“I’m always honest, detective.”

She let a beat pass, then two, before she realized that there was no delaying the inevitable. “Does the name Sabrina mean anything to you?”

_(Everything. It meant everything.)_

With the mention of her name, Lucifer’s smile quickly faded and in its place was a solemn look. He had to hold on to the back of the detective’s chair as he suddenly found himself winded.

“Lucifer?” Chloe asked, placing a hand on his arm.

He quickly shoved away from her touch and straightened his posture. “I’m fine. I just-” He took a few steps back. This wasn’t supposed to happen. _She_ wasn’t supposed to be here. “I have to go.”

Before the detective could get another word out, her partner was already out the door and driving away from the precinct. With a heavy sigh and about a million unanswered questions swirling in her mind, she got up from the seat and made her way to the interrogation room.

It was about time she met this Ms. Morningstar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised:) Keep the kudos and comments coming, guys! You are such an awesome inspiration. With all the love and support you've been sharing, I don't see this story dying down anytime soon. 
> 
> Anyway, if you noticed, the tone in this chapter's narration was slightly lighter than the first two. I try to make it to a point that the voicing changes according to the characters featured in each specific part. It's gonna get more difficult as more and more characters interact within a scene, but I'd like to believe that it's the stylistic choices such as this that give a narrative its own personal touch. Not that it matters that much, just a little tidbit that I personally appreciate (and hopefully, some of you will find nice, too).
> 
> The next few chapters are going to be more evenly-paced, and unlike the first two that were just written on a whim, I've already drawn up some plans on the succeeding events. But hey, you never know, right? Sometimes, words just have a mind of their own ;)
> 
> With that being said, I hope you guys enjoyed reading this because I definitely enjoyed writing it. Till next week!


	4. Dad's Horrible Parenting

A quickly-downed glass of whiskey neat, a penthouse enveloped in early evening darkness, and a restless lightbringer in the middle of it all. It was _not_ a normal Thursday night in Los Angeles, and every force in both heaven and hell knew it to be true.

“How could we have been so careless, brother?”

Another move for the nearly-empty bottle. A worried glance. A sharp exhale cutting through the air. _(And just like that, the walls seemed to cave in on themselves, and in their place, the twisted woods of Greendale, awake more than ever on the witching hour of October 31 st. After 16 years, he still remembered. Even after the earth is consumed by sulfur and stone, it would probably be the last thing he forgets.)_

“I’m sorry, _we?_ ”

There were a lot of things that Amenadiel let his younger brother get away with. Even more so when the eldest angel learned to get away with a few things, himself. But this time around, he was not going to sit still and let Lucifer pass even the tiniest grain of blame onto him, especially when he had warned Samael from the very beginning that his pride would get him in trouble _(And it did, didn’t it? First, the fall, and now this)._

Lucifer’s narrowed eyes quickly met his brother’s. “I know the fault is mine, but don’t act like you haven’t forgotten. You gave me your word, Amenadiel. And you broke it.”

“I had no choice! Father said I had to watch over you, and that meant following you to earth when you deliberately left behind your place in hell.”

“And you said you would watch over my daughter, but look where we are.”

Amenadiel sighed out loud and quickly got up from his place on the couch, marching up to his brother and grabbing the glass of alcohol from his clenched hand. It was a rare thing to look the devil right in the eyes and stand unflinching through it all, but he supposed a few centuries with divinity gave you the uncanny power. “I try to understand you, Lucifer. I really do. But sometimes, I have to stop and wonder if you truly know what it’s like to put someone else first.”

_(A soft cry pierced the silence of the night, and all at once, there was no heaven or hell or mortal plane in between. There was nothing left but her, delicate and beautiful in the flush of new creation, safe but for a moment in her mother’s arms. He wanted to hold her, too; to promise her everything his own father once promised him. But he was tainted and corrupted and all the things she was not to know, not if he had anything to say about it._

_There was no question why he left that night. There was no question why he turned his back with no more than a final look and a heavy heart. They assumed that it would end as swiftly as it began. What they didn’t know was how he looked back with every step he took.)_

“Trust me, brother,” he snatched back the glass of whiskey and downed it in one sip, the liquid setting his throat on fire in a most welcome way. “I know.”

Amenadiel’s eyes softened and he pulled himself on to one of the bar stools, sitting directly in front of the other angel. In all his years, Lucifer was always the proud, confident one, and it showed in most everything he did. But now, with his head in his hands and slumped over his second bottle of alcohol, he looked nothing like the powerful force of divinity who once dared to defy God, himself.

He looked nothing more than a man. A very tired man who let go of the world _(his only world, he would come to realize, when he returned to hell that fateful night and there was no trace of a silver-haired infant whose smile brought him the sweetest, most innocent pain)_ because he had no choice.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I forgot how difficult this must be for you.” He placed a comforting hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, and the younger angel wanted to scoff at his brother’s misplaced pity. But instead, he decided to swallow whatever sarcastic comment he had planned when he saw the sincerity in Amenadiel’s eyes. It was the same sincerity that convinced him to trust his older brother all those years ago. Now he wondered if he made the right choice.

_(“I can’t watch over her from where I am, Amenadiel. Even if I can’t, someone needs to make sure she’s safe. Someone who’ll keep her best interests at heart.”_

_“Angels don’t interfere with mortal affairs, Luci. You know you’re asking for too much.”_

_“Well, she’s not mortal, is she?”)_

There was absolutely no cause for him to reason with his older brother, none at all. It wasn’t like he still gave a damn of what Amenadiel thought of him. Still, the words fell from his lips before he could choke them down for a few more millennia, and soon, Lucifer found his mouth empty and the air suddenly full. “I just wanted to be a good father.”

With a questioning quirk of his brow _(and what a question it was, to hear his younger brother speak so vulnerably for probably the first time since their youth),_ the other angel asked softly, “And what makes you think you aren’t?”

Lucifer could only smile dejectedly at the thought. It was one thing to be a relatively normal parent, raising a relatively normal child. It was another thing altogether to be the literal devil, watching his half-angel daughter grow from afar. In retrospect, it sounded like the punch line of a bad joke, but as it happened, there was no humour in the hand he’s been dealt. “Well, for one, I’ve had a rather shitty role model.”

“Must you always be so harsh towards Father?”

_(How was that even a question?)_

“Yes,” Lucifer looked at his brother like he was talking the most profound nonsense on earth. “How could I not? The petty bastard abandoned me in a fiery inferno because of a single mistake.”

Amenadiel regarded Lucifer thoughtfully _(perhaps Linda was rubbing off on him in more ways than one)._ “And you think that makes him a bad father?”

“Among other things.”

The older angel leaned back against his seat. “But aren’t you doing the same thing with Sabrina?”

Lucifer’s brows knitted at the absolute audacity. “What the bloody hell are you talking about? I may not be the best at raising my child, but I am leagues away from Dad’s horrible parenting.”

“Think about it. At the very least, Dad abandoned you because you were in open rebellion against him. But despite all that, you know deep in your heart that he’ll hear you out on the off chance you call. What about your daughter? She doesn’t even know there’s a father she can reach out to.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Amenadiel, but the other merely shrugged, looking wholly pleased with himself. “You know I stayed away for a reason. It was for her own good.” Another sip of liquid fire, another reminder of the things he left behind _(but it’s not too late to return to them, either)_. “It’s different.”

Amenadiel raised his arms up in surrender, though in the back of his mind, he knew he got to Luci. It was an utter shame that his brother was as stubborn as they come, but if Lucifer only learned to accept that even he made the wrong call every once in a while, then perhaps the whole debacle would have been over and done with a long time ago. Still, Amenadiel was not one to fight a losing battle. He pursed his lips. “If you say so, brother.”

There was something off about the other angel’s tone that set Lucifer on edge. “I’m telling you, _it is._ ”

“And I’m agreeing with you,” Amenadiel argued unconvincingly.

An unsure glance into his brother’s eyes. A reluctant nod of the head at the truth _(or rather, the lack of it)_ that he saw. “Alright.” Lucifer shifted in his seat and regarded Amenadiel’s saccharine smile with an uneasy frown. He turned back to his empty drink, nursing it in his hands while his mind settled into a newfound storm. “Good.”

* * *

It was most definitely not good.

Quite the opposite, actually. Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but Lucifer found himself unhinged at Amenadiel’s impromptu foray into clinical psychology _(Although what did he expect, really? The guy was sleeping with a therapist, for Dad’s sake),_ so much so that he found himself driving back to the precinct at breakneck speed not five minutes after their little chat.

Detective Decker was pleasantly surprised that her partner was back so quickly after his dramatic exit. Usually, when he takes off out of the blue, he doesn’t return till the next day, probably with some wild sex story and a box of unintentionally-illegal donuts in tow. This time, however, he didn’t look as put together as he normally did. Granted, he seemed somewhat calmer than he was when he left, but there was a trace of tension in every move he made, subtle as it was.

“Hey, Lucifer.” She tried to send him a kind smile, but his eyes refused to meet hers, instead roaming all over the place as if looking for something he couldn’t find. For a split second, she wondered if he was pumped full of drugs again, but she quickly shook the thought away. She saw how he reacted earlier when she brought up the teenage girl’s name. There was no question that all this had something to do with her. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

Still scanning the precinct for any sign of his daughter, Lucifer quickly brushed off the questions. “I promise I’ll explain myself another time, detective. But right now, I’m not here as your partner, hard as it is to believe.”

“You’re not?” Chloe tilted her head in confusion.

With a tight smile, Lucifer nodded. “Normally, you wouldn’t catch me dead in this place outside of my work hours. But as it happens, I’m here as a concerned citizen instead of an outstanding civilian consultant.”

The detective almost scoffed at the thought, but she decided to hold it back with a bite of her tongue _(if she had to bite down hard enough to draw blood just to keep a straight face, then she had to take it in stride as an occupational hazard)._ “Oh. And what exactly are you concerned about?”

Lucifer finally stopped his pacing and straightened up, eyes meeting hers in full seriousness. “My daughter has been unjustly detained, and I’m here to bring her home.”

All at once, the stack of folders in the detective’s hands dropped to the ground, and even as hundreds of pages of confidential case files pooled at her feet, she stood unmoving, mouth slightly ajar. Faintly, she could make out Lucifer mouthing a few words in concern, but none of them found their way into her ears. In fact, a serial killer could have waved a gun in her face, and she would have been none the wiser.

_She didn’t know what she expected, but it definitely wasn’t this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait, guys! I know that most of you have been waiting on a new chapter for quite a while now, but my laptop broke a few weeks ago, and it only came back from the shop today. I can't promise that there will be no more late updates in the future, but I sincerely thank you for being so patient and supportive with me.
> 
> Anyway, since the last time I posted, there have been an overwhelming amount of comments and kudos in the previous chapter, and my heart is just so, so, so happy <3 Writing is not the easiest thing to do, but being in this community of such supportive readers makes it all worthwhile. I've also seen a few of your theories on what the hell (pun intended) went down with the two Lucifer Morningstars, and it has been so much fun reading through them! If you have a theory of your own, leave a comment down below, and we'll see if you get it right ;) Rest assured, you'll all have some much-needed answers by the next chapter or so.
> 
> Till next time, thanks for the love!


	5. Hell's De Facto Language

“If you’re quite done with your dramatics, Detective,” Lucifer sighed with arms crossed, patience dwindling by the minute. He didn’t break at least ten different traffic laws on the way to the precinct just to have the detective harass him with annoying questions at the very last minute _(who knew medicine tasted a lot like irony?)._

Chloe was currently sprawled out on her chair, fearing that her legs would give way if she tried to stand up. Most of her partner’s so-called “secrets” were ridiculous at best _(“I am the literal devil, detective.” “Sure you are.”)_ , but she was used to them. This, though? This had to be the biggest bombshell he’s ever dropped, and worst of all, it actually made sense.

“I don’t believe this,” Chloe breathed out, probably for the third time in the past ten minutes _(not that Lucifer was counting...or internally calculating the repercussions of just storming past the Detective and dragging Sabrina home)._

Lucifer closed his eyes, counted to ten. When he opened them, his amusement was still running dry and he internally cursed the self-help pamphlets scattered around Linda’s office. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear.”

“I mean,” Chloe laughed in disbelief. “You hate children.”

“Detective.”

“And I think you would have mentioned a daughter after _two years_ of working together.”

“Detective.”

“Besides, I’ve met the girl. She said she has no relatives in L.A.”

“Detective.”

“I mean, just the _idea_ of you as a father is really unsettling.”

Something in her tone of voice, or perhaps the barely-held amusement in her eyes as she convinced herself it was all a joke, struck a chord within the growingly-impatient devil, and it didn’t sit well with him at all. It was one thing to find humor in his truth _(whether or not she believed them was besides the question)_ , but it was another thing altogether to have her make assumptions about his ability to raise his own child.

“I do hope you’ve got nothing more to say, Detective, because I have had enough.”

Sensing the shift in his voice and the unbridled irritation on his features, the rest of Chloe’s words died in her throat and she swivelled around in her chair to face him. “Come on, you cannot be serious about all this.”

He raised a taunting brow, unimpressed. “Try me.”

The detective waited for the inevitable dirty one-liner to follow _(the opening was practically served on a silver platter)_ , but it never came. Something was wrong. Horribly, painstakingly wrong.

It wasn’t rare for Lucifer to pull the odd prank every once in a while, but every time he did, it was always so easy to see that he had something up his sleeve. Whether it was the way he buzzed with excitement, or the delighted glint in his eyes that he never bothered to hide, he had a tell that was unsubtle enough to be caught by the untrained eye. Now, though, standing stiff as a board with arms crossed, emotions schooled into something impassive and borderline hostile, his usual tells were nowhere to be found. Chloe shivered as the thought finally dawned on her that she might have been laughing at a non-existent joke.

“Okay, you’ve got me. You can drop the act now,” she chuckled, unsure. _(God, let this be a long-overdue April Fools prank.)_

He shook his head and exhaled in exasperation. “Oh, no one’s acting, Detective. Acting _foolish_ , maybe, but it definitely isn’t me. Now if you’re too immature to help,” he swiped Sabrina’s file from the desk and began to scan through any new developments. Chloe quickly wrestled it from his grip and he narrowed his gaze. “I’m not one to get on my knees and beg.”

The detective tucked the file under her arm and sighed out loud. “Look, if what you’re saying is true,” her eyes shot up to meet his, and he promptly looked away in indignation _(she should have known by now that he never lied)._ She stood up from the chair and straightened her blazer. It was preposterous _(and still probably a prank),_ but she would have to trust him. Lucifer was her partner, and that should have been enough. “I’m with you on this. One hundred percent.”

“I swear to Dad, if you start laughing again…”

She looked at him with as much sincerity as she could muster. “Hey, I won’t. Okay?”

He opened his mouth, strung together a few choice words that would have deserved a separate circle in hell, but ultimately stopped himself before the venom could fall from his tongue. _(The last thing he wanted was another mistake to regret in the morning)_ Drawing in a shaky breath and counting to ten _(and twenty and thirty and forty),_ he nodded his head once and cleared a path to the interrogation room.

“Very well. Let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

It seemed very simple in hindsight. Waltz into the precinct, sign some random documents, and then bring Sabrina home _(although the location of said place was still up for debate)._ What he failed to consider in his spur-of-the-moment decision-making, however, was probably the most significant part of the whole equation: _actually meeting his daughter._

Lucifer never thought the day would come, if he was to be honest _(and he’s always honest)._ It was always just a passing thought that tied him up in metaphorical knots before he would brush it away, fearing the mental and emotional repercussions of entertaining an impossible idea for too long. A child’s fancy, it always seemed like; a lingering, innocent hope for something that would never come.

Except it was finally here and he was not prepared at the slightest.

“Lucifer,” Chloe’s voice seemed to permeate through his rigid wall of thoughts, and after blinking his eyes for a few moments, he registered the sight of her knitted brows and tapping foot. “Are you even listening?”

He quickly shook any other stubborn thoughts away and ran a hand through his hair, already dishevelled after the day’s exhaustion. “Yes, sorry,” he tried giving her an attentive smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it used to. “You were saying?”

“I was saying,” the detective said pointedly, giving him an odd look. Her eyes were soon averted as she glanced back to the folder in her hands. “The officers already interviewed the witnesses, and they all testified that it was the man who harassed her and brought out the gun in the first place. The suspect, an Oliver Hayes, just woke up from his emergency surgery for sixth-degree burns. He claims that Sabrina was the one who set him on fire, though forensics already checked the scene and couldn’t find any trace of something that could have ignited him. Witnesses also confirmed that the girl never touched Oliver.”

 _Sixth-degree burns._ The little girl Lucifer knew was the sweetest salt of the earth. She had strong, unique magic, that much he could remember, but everything she did with it was nothing short of beautiful. He distinctly recalled quiet summer afternoons when she would practice simple herbology spells in her aunt’s greenhouse, unfurling flower petals with a twirl of her fingers before closing them back up again. Granted, that was a long time ago, back when she was just barely starting to read and life was simpler _(as much as the devil’s life could be simple, really)._

Now his daughter was sixteen and summoning hellfire, a feat that required the darkest of thoughts and the deepest of hatred. He felt a pang of guilt echo throughout his already twisted, acid-drenched insides. _(Who ruined my darling girl while I wasn’t looking?)_

“Anyway,” Chloe continued, closing the file back up. “We don’t have enough evidence to keep her here anymore, so she’s free to go. She just needs a parent or guardian to sign her out since she’s a minor. That’s where you come in, I guess.”

“Yes, I believe so,” Lucifer mumbled absently, though his mind was elsewhere. ( _What exactly did he miss while he was in Los Angeles?)_

The detective nodded her head. “Alright, then. I’ll just get the paperwork together.” She moved to turn away, but paused at the last second and gave her partner a little nudge to the side. “You know, if you want to talk to her, she’s just through the door.”

With one last encouraging smile, she was gone. Alone with his thoughts for probably the first time that damned _(blessed)_ day, Lucifer drew in a shaky breath and looked to the ceiling. It was nothing spectacular, just the normal set of cobweb-covered boards and foggy fluorescent lights. But for the briefest second, the pristine white paint reminded him of home _(his real home, with the stars and the silence)_ , and he thought of calling for his Father _(I’m not strong like you)._ Almost as soon as it came, though, the idea slipped through his fingers much like everything fleeting and unsure in the world, and he lowered his gaze back to the floor _(But why would I want to be like you?)._

He counted to ten, to twenty, to fifty.

_(There’s no running away anymore)._

He pushed the doors open.

* * *

“Are you letting me go now?”

It was the first time in all his life that he’d ever heard her voice, he realized, once he shut the door behind him and the girl looked up from her solitude in surprise. There was only so much Amenadiel’s stories could tell, but eloquent as his brother’s words were, they never did capture the wonder of everything she was.

For instance, he was never told how her eyes were bright and endless as a starless night, how her skin shone like porcelain even in the dimly-lit room. How could his brother possibly describe the angel wing white of her hair? The delicate resolve in the way she carried herself, determined and unafraid? She was ineffable, really. A creation too radiant for words _(and you said I could only create destruction, father)._

At just the right angle, under just the right light, she looked so much like Diana that he had to wonder if he was actually met with Sabrina, and not her mother’s ghost come back to haunt him. _(He owed that woman everything, and he never even got to thank her. Maybe in the next life, when everything has been said and done.)_

He stepped closer to the table with small steps, slow and measured, not quite eager to let the moment slip from his fingers too soon. Sabrina watched his every move with careful eyes _(she knows better than to leave strange men unguarded),_ and he did the same. When was the last time he saw her in the flesh, breathing and brilliant and _being?_ It must’ve been too long ago, when she was but a babe in her mother’s arms in the woods.

Finally, when she was close enough to touch, he felt his arms ache with the urge to gather her up and never let go _(I should’ve held you when I had the chance),_ but he remembered himself, all that he was, and all that he was not. He lost the right to reach for her when he walked away the first time.

He stopped at the edge of the table and pulled a seat for himself. “Hello, child.”

The young witch regarded the man curiously, trying to read into his soul with a sharp look that should have told her everything, but for once, her mind came at a blank. Perhaps her magic was prone to exhaustion, as well _(or she just didn’t know that her powers did little against the man who passed them on to her in the first place)._ Still, it did not deter her at the slightest, and she simply leaned back against the chair with her arms crossed, setting her gaze apprehensively on her newfound companion. “The detective said we were done. I should be on my way to a hotel by now or something, not trapped in this room playing staring games with you.”

She spoke with a surprising bite that her father did not expect, though he could not bring himself to be cross, not when her spite sounded so familiar.

“You must be so tired.” The devil’s words were dipped in sympathy, and she hated how pitiful he made her sound. The way he took note of the weariness of her shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes didn’t escape the girl, and she had the sense that the man across from her wasn’t just referring to the events of the day.

She hummed in response, gave him a critical look. “Maybe I am. But I don’t see how it’s any of your business, anyway.”

“Oh, my dear,” Lucifer chuckled. “It _is_ my business. More than anyone’s.”

At this, the witch’s eyebrows knitted together and she leaned in closer, scanning his face for anything that would give him away. It was not often that you would meet a person who could be confident, anxious, and sad all at once. But somehow, the man across from her was able to be all three. She spoke in a low breath, the beginnings of a threat coloring her voice. “Who are you?”

Lucifer kept his facade calm, movements measured. But inside, his head was spinning too fast for him to keep up. _(Doesn’t she already know? She took his name, set out to Los Angeles. Why else would she be here?)._ He tried to find any trace of a lie in the way she moved, the way her steel-like gaze narrowed ever so slightly at him. Still, there was nothing but an honest question in her eyes, and how could he not oblige her with an answer? For someone who loved the truth so much, it was a wonder how he had gone sixteen years hiding from it.

“I’m Lucifer Morningstar.”

Her mouth drew into a tight line, and she set her features into something cold and unamused. He didn’t know if it was just him, but Lucifer felt as if the lights inside the room had gone a bit dimmer. “You should really know better than to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” he urged, meeting the silent rage in her eyes with a patience he didn’t know he had.

“And why should I believe you? You’re nobody to me.”

_(But you’re everything to me)._

Lucifer sighed out loud, lowered his head. He was sure it would be difficult, but all he knew at that moment was a unique agony that no circle in hell could replicate. But then again, he had already come so far _(never in a million years would he have imagined being in the same room with her, let alone talking to her face to face)._ He was not about to give up on her now.

“You may not know me,” he stared deep into her dark eyes _(so very much like his own),_ and hoped that she would see his sincerity, his pain, anything at all. “But I know you.”

Sabrina pursed her lips and let the silence stretch between them. This man had a way of dragging things on for far too long, and she did not appreciate it at the slightest. “Funny,” she finally uttered, though her tone held no humour in it. “I knew a Lucifer Morningstar once. Not a nice man at all. Now I detest the very name.”

She leaned in closer, as if telling a secret. All the while, a smile so obviously forced, yet threateningly sweet rested on her face. “I think you’d understand how unwise it is to even mention it in my presence.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her, tried to make sense of the things she said. _(Another Lucifer Morningstar? It wasn’t possible.)_ “What are you talking about?”

The girl smirked and leaned back against her chair, arms crossed smugly. “Like I said, it’s none of your business.” She raised a brow. “Still think you know me?”

She may have looked like her mother, but her stubbornness, her pride, it was all his. Lucifer wanted to be mad, but he soon found that he couldn’t. There must have been another way to get to her, short of unveiling his wings and bringing out his devil face.

Suddenly, a thought came to mind, stemming from a certain book he spotted amidst her belongings earlier in the day. It could have very well been a futile gesture, but it was all he had at the moment.

“Ek ken vir jou. Vertrou vir my, kind. _(I know you. Trust me, I do.)”_

Sabrina was taken aback. In all honesty, she thought nothing more of the man than another infuriating investigator who wanted to give her a hard time because of her name _(the Chloe woman earlier sure couldn’t move past it)_ , but when he started speaking the most smooth, fluent Lilim she’s ever heard, she had to step back and wonder who it truly was who sat across from her.

“Wat is jy? _(What are you?)”_ She answered back, brows furrowed.

Lucifer couldn’t help but sigh in relief, glad that they were finally getting somewhere. Granted, he didn’t have the faintest clue when his daughter began to grasp hell’s de facto language so effortlessly, but the thought gave him the slightest hint of pride, all the same.

“Ek veronderstel dat ons die selfde is. _(Same as you, I suppose.)”_

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Is jy ń Oorlogsluit dan? _(A warlock, then?)”_

Lucifer glanced at the watch on his wrist, took note of the time quickly passing by _._ He needed her to agree to come with him before the Detective could come back with the paperwork and notice how the two were too unfamiliar to be family. 

He shook his head, gave her an apologetic look. “Dit is 'n verhaal vir 'n ander tyd, my kind. _(It’s a story for another time, child.)”_

Sabrina gave a little huff of annoyance, but began to ponder on a new thought forming in the back of her mind. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that she ran into someone else with extensive knowledge of hell in the few hours she spent in Los Angeles. Even in Greendale, the magical allies she had were few and far in between, most all of them off to tie up their own loose ends. She didn’t know what game fate was playing at, but if she wanted to march back into the underworld and free Nick, she needed all the help she could get.

“Can you get me out of here?” She asked in her normal voice, tone shifting to something raw and vulnerable. Lucifer’s heart warmed at the thought. From the moment they met, she had been nothing but guarded and cold _(and understandably so),_ but he hoped that she would soon realize that she had no need for such precautions anymore, not when he was there to keep her safe now.

He gave her a small smile, kind and tender in a way only a father could give his child _(though he never remembered his own father ever looking at him like that)._ “Why else would I have come?”

Her face broke out into a grin, bright and untamed, and the universe was suddenly golden. “Then we have all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything else: my writing is a machine fueled by your lovely comments.
> 
> \---
> 
> And I'm back! Sorry for leaving you hanging for so long, especially since the last chapter took a while to be updated, as well. It's just been exam season, and on top of that, I've been chasing university application deadlines for a few weeks, so everything has been hectic as hell (pun intended). With that in mind, this latest chapter has been doubled in length to make up for the days I've missed.
> 
> Anyway, the two finally meet! I've been thinking over the flow of this chapter for so long, and I hope the end product is everything you expected it to be and more. For anyone who's wondering, their Lilim language was based on Afrikaans (the same language Maze used in the Lucifer TV show). To clarify, I am not in any way fluent (I mean, I'm asian, for heaven's sake), and Google Translate was my stronghold for that whole sequence. So I apologize in advance for any mistakes, and I hope you'll bear with me for all the future times I'll bring up Lilim.
> 
> What's your favorite scene in the whole story so far? Is there anything you'd like to see in the future chapters? Let me know in the comments below. You never know what's gonna happen next ;)
> 
> As always, I appreciate all the love and support. Till next time!


	6. Runner

Sabrina didn’t question it.

When the well-dressed stranger with the surprisingly gentle eyes signed her out of the precinct under the guise of her father _(she was yet to be sure if he actually shared the same name with her deplorable dad; if so, it was a coincidence too great for words)_ , she didn’t say a thing, even as the exasperated detective sorted through the paperwork and took in the sight of her with an unspoken hesitance, even as the unfamiliar man _(though she could have sworn she knew him, that the goosebumps she felt when she first saw him had nothing to do with the cold)_ led her to an expensive car parked outside the building and drove them through the darkness of early evening LA.

The city lights all seemed to blur together as she stared straight ahead at the road, eyes unseeing as her mind found itself wandering back to Greendale, to everything she left behind. Was it selfish of her, to just pack her things and go? To abandon the war when it was still far from over? She knew she never left; not fully, not really. Because even as she found her body maneuvered through foreign streets in a vintage black car, her heart was in hell, her spirit was with the Spellmans, and her mind was on her father, relentlessly working to unravel the tapestry of deceit he wove around her existence. She leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes.

 _One week._ That was all the time she would give to put her plan together, before she came marching back home to end the fight herself. If she still didn’t make sense of things by then, she would nonetheless find a way to hell, armed with nothing but a deadly union of hatred _(for her father and his wickedness)_ and love _(for Nick, for her family, for all of witchkind)_ , bowing down to no evil but her own. But then again, what was the power of her fury against the very entity that passed it on to her? Her rage had to have come from somewhere, and it wasn’t from her mother.

She opened her eyes again and drew in a shaky breath. Peace did not have a place in her life, but it didn’t mean she never longed for it all the same.

The silence she was just beginning to embrace was suddenly broken as the strange man beside her _(Lucifer Morningstar, if what he says is true)_ finally gave life to a question that occupied his mind ever since the two met.

“Would you have gone?” He asked, brows furrowed, voice quiet so as not to shatter the stillness completely, though colored with an unbridled curiosity.

She shifted in her seat to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he explained, eyes darting to her for the briefest of moments, “if I hadn’t come for you, would you have stayed at the station all night? We both know you could have just walked out of there if you wanted. I doubt a few sets of locked doors could have held you back.”

Sabrina pondered the question for a second, only having thought about it for the first time. In reality, there was no defining moment where she sat herself down on the plain interrogation room chair and decided to wait for her saving grace _(though the man driving the sleek Corvette with anxious eyes and restless movements wasn’t particularly graceful, if you asked her)_. She just did. After a few beats of silence, she surprised even herself by shaking her head no.

“I don’t think I would’ve,” she admitted, forehead creased as she finally came to an answer. “I’ve broken enough rules for one day. I don’t think running into more trouble would’ve done me any good.”

“A bit of a troublemaker, are we?”

She scoffed, turned her gaze back to the speeding scenery. “It’s a bit hard to avoid the things that always follow you around.”

Lucifer stole a glance at her face, saw how heavily exhaustion set on her shoulders, her eyes. She was a runner, his daughter; chased by her innate darkness from one heartache to the next. It made a lot of sense, though. Her father was a runner, too.

He gave her a sad smile _(how fitting it was that they were the only ones who understood each other’s pain)_. “I couldn’t have said it better, myself.”

If the strange man with the pained eyes seemed to be locked in a battle with grief even greater than her own, Sabrina didn’t question it, either.

* * *

Their drive ended at Sunset Boulevard, at a lavish nightclub called Lux. Stepping out of the car, Sabrina trailed after Lucifer _(yet another thing she was yet to question)_ who headed straight for the entrance doors, past the pooling patrons and velvet ropes.

“I don’t really think a bar is the best place to be right now,” Sabrina called out, frowning as she stepped past the large bouncer who kept giving her a critical eye. It was easy to forget that humans looked down on teenagers going into establishments like this, especially when Dorian’s Gray Room had its doors open to her whenever she pleased.

“Don’t worry, I own this club,” Lucifer answered over his shoulder, still pushing past the swarm of sweaty, dancing bodies straight ahead. “It’s the safest place we can talk.”

It was a fair sentiment, Sabrina could agree. Talks of hell, witches, and dark arts weren’t the types of things to discuss in public. Conquering the crowds, the pair stopped in front of a single elevator.

Lucifer pressed the button going up. “We’ll have to head up to my penthouse. It’s quieter there.”

Though the man had been nothing but warm and patient ever since they met, Sabrina was yet to trust him _(sometimes, she felt as though she forgot what the word even meant)._ She gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m grateful for what you did for me today, but if you try anything funny-”

He cut off the rest of her words with a sharp look, alarm seeping into his tone. _(The thought of anyone laying hands on her against her will pushed him over the edge.)_ “Why? Has anyone tried anything funny with you before?”

She broke away from his probing gaze, eyes downcast as she pursed her lips. _(Her thoughts drifted back to being stripped naked in front of the entire coven, exposed in the most vulnerable way to hordes of witches and warlocks who knew her body before she knew their names. If anyone dared touch her then, she would’ve unleashed hell unknown to any of them. But in the end, their skin didn’t even have to meet hers; witch mark or not, she was branded all the same. It was a shame that Hilda only arrived when everything had been said and done.)_

The girl sighed, a faraway sadness in her breath. “The funniest.”

Lucifer couldn’t even begin to imagine what his daughter meant, but he assumed the worst. He clenched his fist in anger, yet calmed himself enough to keep it at his side. Now was the time for reunions and reconciliations; rampage had no place in the picture _(not this soon, at least)_. Whoever hurt her would have to wait _(soon, reckoning would come and its name will be Morningstar)._

“Well, you don’t have to worry anymore,” he uttered, voice barely above a whisper. She turned around to face him at the softly-spoken words. The devil returned her inquiring look with a small smile. “You’re safe with me.”

She regarded the words with deep thought, but never got the chance to respond as the pristine elevator doors parted open just then. Still, as the two stepped inside, Lucifer could have sworn he heard a faintly-mumbled “I hope so,” before the doors slid shut behind them once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out a bit shorter than I expected, but it seemed like a good idea to end it there, considering that this update was just planned to set up the stage for chapter seven. All things considered, the background has been set, the narrative has been put into motion, and the pair finally find themselves at Lux. 
> 
> (Also, I took some creative liberties regarding that season 1 scene with Sabrina and the witch mark. Nothing's really changed much, except for the fact that Hilda only arrived with the baby book after the coven finished inspecting Sabrina. I'm not one for major canon rewrites, but you may find me changing some things here and there according to what helps the plot. But hey, no need to get upset. This is just fanfiction, after all ;))
> 
> Any predictions on what they'll talk about at the penthouse? Sound off in the comments below!
> 
> Till next time <3


	7. It's Not a Way Out

Lucifer needed a drink. Hell, he needed ten _(and maybe a line or two of cocaine)._ His heart was pounding, his head wasn’t in the right place, and the remorse churning in his gut was an acid straight out of the sulphur sea. As the doors slid open to his penthouse, though, he thought better of it _(the full brunt of his devilishness and drug addiction seemed a bit much to unload on his daughter in one night),_ and resigned himself to a spot on the Italian leather settee, instead.

He half-expected Sabrina to follow suit, but he couldn’t say he was surprised when her first few steps took her to the bar instead. A rocks glass was already in her hand as she ran her fingers over the ornate bottles before settling on an aged whiskey _(he couldn’t decide if it was misery or irony that she went for the same drink he had earlier in the night)._

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, gaze seeking his in silent question just before her hands were set to pour _(it was more courtesy than anything; the dull ache for alcohol’s sweet numbness was strong on her tongue, but she would choke it down if need be)._

A frown set deep into her father’s brow as a silent apprehension clouded over his features. “I’d rather you didn’t poison yourself so soon,” he chided, tone fixed into something final. _(She was sixteen, a child – his child. It was out of the question)._ But he saw the subtle twitch of her fingers, the way they snaked around the bottleneck like a lifeline _(something told him that liquor was her friend just as much as it was his)._ The sting of alcohol down her throat stole the trouble from her mind, if only for a moment, and he understood the need. It was why he built his earthly empire out of drinks and debauchery in the first place.

She set the bottle down with a dejected glance _(her thoughts were beginning to overflow, and they needed to be drowned. Ever since things went to hell – quite literally – a strong drink was usually all it took to ease her back),_ and Lucifer sighed aloud. “But if you must,” he gestured for her to go on with a wave of his hand _(just this once, he would give her this),_ “then don’t let me stop you.”

“Just one,” she promised, lips pulled tight into something sullen, something grateful. Filling her cup to the brim _(she never said exactly how much that one drink would be),_ she made her way to the living room, settling in the seat across from his. Not a moment later, the girl held up her glass in a silent toast, before tilting her head back as she took a large sip.

“It’s not a way out – drinking. I know that,” she clarified, eyebrows knitted together as she set the glass down on the table. She had no idea where the sudden need to defend herself came from _(not when the man in front of her didn’t seem the least bit judgemental),_ yet it was a safety, she supposed, another wall she was in no hurry to tear down just yet. “But it’s something.”

Lucifer nodded, familiar with the escape of one good drink. _(He kept her at arm’s length all her life, and she still managed to follow in his footsteps. He didn’t know how to feel about that.)_ “And something is better than nothing,” he whispered back.

She merely hummed in response, leaning back against the smooth fabric of the couch. A beat passed, then two _(Lucifer couldn’t stand the baited silence no matter how much he tried)_ , before she finally put her father’s misery to an end when she breathed out the one question that stood between them the whole night. “Why did you bail me out?”

_(Because no one was coming for you. Because I thought you didn’t need me, but maybe you do. Because I’m the reason you’re hurting, and you deserve better than being abandoned a second time. Because it breaks my heart to see you lost and alone, and how in the world could I stay away after all of this?)_

“You needed help,” he answered, short and clipped and not quite a lie _(though the truth ran deeper than he cared to admit)._ “I just happened to be there.”

Sabrina paused, considered his words for a second, before nodding her head once. It took all of her willpower not to touch the half-filled glass on the table. “Would you help me again?”

Lucifer’s eyes softened _(if only she knew that she never had to ask)._ “As much as you need me to.”

She didn’t quite know him, didn’t quite trust him _(yet everything inside of her was telling her to),_ and if she had to back away, now would be the time to do it. She could have simply thanked him for his time, took the elevator downstairs, hailed a cab to the airport and flew back to Greendale with not so much as a second glance back.

But she didn’t.

Sabrina Spellman _(Morningstar)_ knew what she wanted, and she wanted a fighting chance. And if fate was going to take away all of her allies, then by God, she would find a new one. It wasn’t a mere coincidence that he was sitting right across from her at that very moment.

She took a deep breath, thought it over once, thought it over twice _(though it was fruitless when her mind was already made)._ This would be the moment that would put everything back together.

“I need you to take me to hell.”

This time, it was her father’s hands that reached for the whiskey on the table.

* * *

“Oh, you don’t know what you’re asking for, little girl.” By then, Lucifer had moved to the balcony, cigarette in hand as he stared out at the fading city lights. It was this kind of peace, this kind of stillness, that made the world difficult to leave. He brought the tobacco to his lips, the nicotine filling every nook and cranny of all that he was before he let it out in a slow breath. The smoke scattered with the wind and blew across the night air. “Hell is not what you think it is.”

Sabrina did not like the way he spoke to her, as if she was some child asking for a toy that couldn’t be bought. He had no idea what she went through, what she was _going to go through_ all over again, and yet he acted as if he knew better. She abandoned her place on the couch and marched out into the cold evening breeze to join her father, jaw set in determination. “I know what’s there. I know what’s waiting on the other side,” she ground out, brows furrowing in insistence. “I can handle it.”

Lucifer sighed and put his cigarette out, turning to face her completely _(if her stubbornness was anything like his, it was best to get her delusions over and done with before they got out of hand)._ “All right, I’ll play along. Let’s pretend you know all about the horrors of hell, and are fully ready to face its consequences,” he looked her right in the eyes, just daring her to prove him wrong. “What makes you think I can – _and will_ – bring you there?”

Sabrina crossed her arms, stared him down _(the way only a stone cold witch raised by Zelda Spellman could do)._ When he didn’t so much as flinch, she knew right then and there that she was dealing with the best of them.

“Look, I can see you have some sort of powers. And you speak hell’s language so flawlessly, which not even our high priest could do. You and I both know you’ve been there before.” She broke away from his gaze and let out an exasperated breath, setting her sights on the skyline, instead _(the glass towers probably wouldn’t take much convincing to stand with her)._ “Besides, I’ve opened its gates once. I’m sure I could do it again, I just need to figure out how.”

Lucifer almost wished he had a drink in hand just so he could spit it back out. _(It didn't help that she looked so sure of herself, looked as if cracking open the gates of hell was just another Wednesday morning)._

"You mean,” he tightened his jaw, trying his best to be patient but edging closer to temperament with every passing breath. _(He promised himself long ago that his daughter would never live to see the flames of the pit, would never know of its agony. To find out that she had already experienced it first-hand was to negate the very reason he stayed away in the first place.)_ “You’ve been to hell?”

She shook her head, a faraway look on her face. “No, I never went inside. Just saw a glimpse, but that was all.”

“And?” Her father urged, somewhat appeased but unsettled still. “Did you like what you saw? Enough that you want to do it again?”

Sabrina had the sense that she was playing a losing game, and no matter what she said, her dark-haired companion wouldn’t understand. It took everything in her not to pull her hair in frustration, in fear of being mistaken for a petulant child _(and even if she did have a certain notoriety for petulance in the past, it would do everyone well not to bring it up)._ “It’s not like that, okay? I’m not going there to have the time of my life. I’m _risking_ my life because someone down there did me dirty, and I’m gonna make them pay.”

“You think that’s all your life is worth? Revenge?” He looked at her incredulously. “You have no idea the lengths people have gone through to see you unharmed, and you’re throwing it away. And for what? A chance to get back at someone who’s already well on their way to damnation?”

Sabrina pursed her lips, gave him a hard glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her father pointed a finger back at her. “ _That’s_ where you’re wrong, darling. I know all about retribution. Heavens, it’s all I did for the past millennia. And let me tell you, there’s no sense in getting even with the dead. If the person you’re after is already in hell, I assure you, they will be paying for their sins tenfold. I can make sure of that.” He noticed his voice growing in volume with every word he spoke, and brought it back down before his temper could get the best of him _(which was particularly difficult, not just with his daughter’s relentlessness, but with the thought of anyone having hurt her without his knowledge)._

He calmed himself with a deep breath and looked at her, eyes imploring. “Please, child, spare yourself the trouble. Whatever needs to be done, let me take care of it. Trust me, nobody is worth going to hell for.”

Convinced that he has said his piece _(and delivered it well enough to render the girl speechless)_ , he turned his back to her, footfalls taking him inside as he sought out a much-needed drink. It was nice to see that his innate powers of persuasion haven’t surrendered to time just yet. Before he could get past the balcony doors, however, her voice suddenly pierced through the newly-settled silence, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“My father,” she called out.

_(The sulphur in his stomach was burning more than ever, and he was out of words.)_

Lucifer swung back around to face her, a hesitancy shrouding his worn features. “What did you say?”

Sabrina blew out a low breath. “My father is worth going to hell for. He built my life into some sort of charade and took away everything from me. And I don’t care if he’s already in the abyss, he’s still not dead.” She met his eyes then, and though he knew the beautiful, destructive rage kindled in them was not pointed at him, he feared for her _(all that she was, and all she was to become)_ just the same. “And I won’t rest until he is.”

He never meant to lie to her, to keep things from her. Somewhere along the way, it just seemed safer to shield her from whatever it was that could bring her pain _(yet he already caused her suffering, whether she knew it or not, and there was no sense in keeping out the light any longer)._ He walked back out into the night air to join her, bracing himself for the coming torrent all the while. Stopping in front of her, his eyes met hers in a hesitant glance. “Darling, your father is not where you think he is.”

The girl almost laughed at the thought _(as if all their efforts were fruitless; as if she surrendered Nicholas, her life, her family for nothing)_. “No, he’s in hell. I made sure of it.”

It was inevitable. He was going to break her heart all over again, but it needed to be done. _(It didn’t mean he was all too eager to do it either way.)_ “Sabrina…” he trailed off.

Whatever amusement she held ran dry when she heard him speak her name for the very first time all evening. There was a remorse to it, a trepidation, that steeled her insides and made her doubt everything she was ever sure of. _(But then again, how could he know, how could he possibly know, when she, herself, didn’t know a thing about him?)_ “He _is_ down there…isn’t he?”

 _(He’d been dreading the thought all evening, perhaps all these sixteen years, come to think of it, but time and circumstance had never been kind to him, and he didn’t expect either one to help him now)._ Lucifer drew in a shaky breath. “I think it’s best if you sat down. There’s something you need to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow updates. Ugh, I know. It's just been really hard to school my mind into creative writing lately, and I end up deleting everything I write. It's the most frustrating thing in the world.
> 
> Still, I have the world's best readers for sticking with me through all the stress and writer's block. You guys are seriously the best. You can't imagine how my day lights up whenever I see a new comment on this fic. 
> 
> Sending virtual hugs and kisses your way!
> 
> Till next time <3


	8. A Kitten and A Wedding Dress

**TWO YEARS AGO**

_“Amenadiel, brother,” Lucifer called out with a barely-contained grin as he glimpsed the angel wings swiftly descending into the pit. “What brings you here? I would’ve cleaned up had I known you were coming.”_

_Maze scoffed from where she stood, leaning upright against the throne he sat in. “Please, as if you weren’t looking forward to this day all year.” She rolled her eyes as she kicked a wayward skull away from her feet. “Make it quick, Amenadiel. Some of us don’t have the luxury of stopping time before we’re decayed maggot bait.”_

_Lucifer eyed her critically. “Mazikeen, no one forced you to be here. If you don’t play nice, you’re more than welcome to go back to those nice, fat terrorists you were blowing up earlier.”_

_Tempting as the thought was (there was a tenderness to the way they screamed; she would have guessed they’d have made better ballads than bombs), the demon stood her ground. Though left unsaid, both she and Lucifer knew that she counted down the days to every October 31 st as much as he did. She blew out a low breath and narrowed her gaze, but ground out an exasperated “Fine,” nonetheless._

_Amenadiel tucked away his wings as he marched up to his brother’s throne, a smug smile fixed on his face. He nodded towards hell’s most feared demon as he neared the stone steps. “Always a pleasure, Mazikeen.”_

_Maze snarled in response but said nothing more._

_The older angel turned towards Lucifer, and the devil raised a brow in anticipation. “Well, get on with it. I don’t have all day.”_

_Amenadiel shook his head as a slight chuckle escaped his lips. “I thought you were playing nice?”_

_“No, Maze is playing nice. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”_

_“Well, I am overwhelmed with gratitude,” he replied with a tight smile. The angel pulled out a stack of photographs and passed them on to his little brother. “You’re lucky Hilda doesn’t make a fuss over these missing pictures. She just keeps assuming she lost them and prints out new copies.”_

_“Yes, all well and good,” Lucifer muttered absently. He couldn’t be faulted for it, though. As his eyes took in the faded sight of his child printed on the little sheets of paper (the only way he could see her, watch her grow over time), he was overwhelmed with an uncanny emotion, the same one that struck him on her birthday every year. On one hand, there was nothing he wouldn’t give to be the one who spent every day with her, dressing her up for dances, spoiling her with ice cream dates, and taking the same old photographs that he held in his hands. On the other, he knew that this was as close as he could go without ruining her. (The thought should’ve left him at peace, but when everything was said and done, the pictures tucked away, and his brother back watching over Sabrina from above, it only left an echoing emptiness that should have numbed him more than it did)._

_“Not such a little princess anymore, is she?” Maze mumbled, peering over his shoulder to look at a photograph of Sabrina biking through the park with her friends, a small smile on the demon’s face (Lucifer had to check if hell was freezing over, but thankfully, its fiery walls were still intact)._

_He sighed and passed her the rest of the stack. “No, I guess not.”_

_Amenadiel clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a kind, reassuring look. “There’s nothing to worry about, Luci. She’s a good, happy child, and the Spellmans are raising her well. Her intelligence is unparalleled at school, she’s doing exceptionally in controlling her powers, and all her friends adore her. I’d dare say you’ve got a little angel in your hands.”_

_Mazikeen made a loud noise from the back of her throat as she flipped to a new photo. “Define angelic for me, would you, Amenadiel?” The picture in question painted a very quaint scene of Sabrina kissing a red-faced Harvey Kinkle under the mistletoe. The lack of knives in Maze’s fingers suddenly felt like a phantom limb. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”_

_“Now, now, Mazikeen, let’s not get carried away,” Lucifer snatched the photo from her grip and tried not to grimace at the sight of his sweet girl making out with a boy. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for whatever_ this _is. Amenadiel?”_

_The older angel nodded his head. “Of course. It’s all very simple, really. Hanging mistletoe is a human custom where-”_

_“Nevermind. This sort of thing is obviously beyond you,” Lucifer exhaled, defeat coloring his tone. “Let’s just move on to less confusing things. Maze!”_

_Not a second later, the woman appeared with a little black kitten in her hands, a red bow tied around its neck. “For her sixteenth birthday,” Maze hissed in Amenadiel’s direction, unsubtle with her annoyance over the photograph. If she had been watching Sabrina, boys would have begged and screamed and writhed before they could even touch the heir of hell. With a narrowed gaze, she shoved the animal into his arms and stalked back to her place beside the throne._

_“Sixteenth?” The angel asked. “But she just turned fourteen today.”_

_“Yes, and the ancient tome of healing spells I asked you to leave at her door should suffice as my gift for this year,” Lucifer intoned, already tired of the conversation. “This creature, however, is a very special one. You see, when witches turn sixteen, they will find themselves in need of a familiar. That restless pile of fur Maze has handed you will be Sabrina’s.”_

_Amenadiel eyed the animal curiously. “And it has to be this cat instead of any other familiar because?”_

_Mazikeen rolled her eyes. “Because the girl isn’t just any other witch, is she?” The demon snapped. “That cat houses a demon born in servitude to the child of the Morningstar, and its sole purpose is to devote itself to her every need. It will follow her to the ends of the earth if it has to. Its loyalty is the kind only the deepest bowel of hell could breed.”_

_(There was a thing or two to be said about Maze’s less-than-agreeable attitude, but if Lucifer was to be believed and this was actually her attempt at playing nice, then Amenadiel would just have to hold his tongue and appreciate her efforts, horrible as they were.)_

_Amenadiel adjusted his grip on the kitten and forced out a smile, the same kind he used to give his smaller siblings when he had to convince them that their parents weren’t fighting. “Alright. But why give it to her now instead of waiting two more years?”_

_At a loss for words, Maze’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, who shot back a reassuring look. With a perfected grace, the devil got up from his throne in one swift motion, straightening his suit as he got to his feet._

_“You see, brother,” he began, wrapping an arm around the angel’s shoulders and leading him back down the steep stone steps. “Unlike all my other gifts, you won’t leave this one to her directly. By the time she comes of age, the cat will find its way to Sabrina all by itself. It just has to grow up on earth in the presence of humans so that its demonic nature won’t manifest in hostility towards the mortals it will come across. It’s all just a bunch of semantics, but you understand the need, don’t you?”_

_From their youth, Amenadiel prided himself on being the only one who truly understood Lucifer. When he led the charge against heaven’s hosts, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. After all, the eldest angel figured early on that it was only a matter of time before his little brother’s pride and power got the best of him. This time, too, he knew there was something off about Lucifer. He was plotting something. But in respect of his grief (his daughter’s birthday was meant to be something celebrated each year, but every time, he ended up lamenting his losses with her, as a life well lived was constantly waved in his face in the form of photographs that would never have him in the picture), Amenadiel decided to trade his suspicion for trust._

_He was better now, surely, than the young angel who spat in their father’s face and eventually chanced upon the pains of fatherhood, himself._

_(How wrong it would all turn out to be, Amenadiel realized too late.)_

_“Of course, I understand.” He adjusted his grip on the kitten and smiled back at his brother. “This is all, then? Nothing for her next birthday?”_

_“Almost forgot. Good thing you reminded me. Maze!” In a blink of an eye, the demon was standing next to them at the foot of the steps, a big white box clasped between her fingers. Just as callously, she shoved it into Amenadiel’s hands without another word and went to stand indignantly next to her boss._

_The angel lifted the lid and stared puzzled at its content. “It’s a dress.”_

_“Congratulations, you have eyes,” Mazikeen deadpanned._

_Lucifer raised a hand, and the demon silenced herself with no more than a roll of the eyes. “It’s not just any dress, though.” The devil explained, smiling quite smugly at his own thoughtfulness. “It was Diana’s wedding dress. Witch hunters burned down Edward and Diana’s first home soon after they wed, forcing them to move back into the Spellman house. This was one of the few things lost in the fire.”_

_“How’d you find it?”_

_Maze sighed in exasperation. “He had me dig through the ruins for it.”_

_“Only because it was so important,” Lucifer edged, a sternness to his tone of voice. “There are few things that Sabrina has of her mother. If I could keep Diana’s memory alive, just the tiniest bit more, then it’s the least I could do. I already owe so bloody much to the woman.”_

_Amenadiel had never met Diana, but from what he could gather, Lucifer always thought so highly of her. (When it came to Edward Spellman, though, it was a whole other story.) It was a sweet gesture, uniting a young woman with her mother’s most prized possessions. The mere fact that his brother planned it out spoke volumes on how much he grew from the selfishness he used to harbour._

_“I’m proud of you, Luci,” Amenadiel moved to hug his younger brother while he stood stiffly, at a loss on how to respond with a kitten and a wedding dress sandwiched between them. “You’re a much better father than you think. Sabrina will realize everything you’re doing for her one day, and till she does, I will keep her safe for you. That’s a promise.”_

_Lucifer softened at his brother’s words, so much that he almost felt guilty on what he was about to do next. (Almost.)_

_“Thank you, brother. I mean it, sincerely.”_

_(“And I’m sorry. I really am. But it has to be done.”)_

_With one last proud (clueless) smile and the promise of next year’s photographs, Amenadiel uncovered his wings and flew out of the pit in one swift motion. Before Lucifer could even tear his eyes away from the empty space where his brother once stood, Mazikeen’s face was already dangerously close to his, a wild, affronted look to her._

_“What the hell, Lucifer?”_

_“Ironic word choice.”_

_She pulled at her hair in frustration and stepped away, every ancient curse on her tongue. “I can’t believe you! You’re actually doing it. You’re leaving!”_

_Lucifer calmly sat himself back on the throne and crossed his legs nonchalantly, the least bit interested in whatever she had to say (nothing she did could ever change his mind, after all). “Oh, really? How’d you come to that conclusion?”_

_“Please, I know you better than you think," she said sharply. "Ever since you made me prepare the cat for Amenadiel’s visit, I knew what you were gonna do. Why else would you have sent out your presents for the next two years?”_

_“Careful, Mazikeen. You’re treading on thin ice.”_

_“You gave them today because Amenadiel won’t be back anymore. Because by the time she turns fifteen, sixteen, and all the other years after, you won’t be here!”_

_With that, the devil’s fuse ran short and he shot out of his seat, matching the demon’s temperament with his own. “And why on earth would I want to be here? Out of all the beings in hell, I am the most tortured, and the only consolation I have is that by holding up my end of the bargain, my brother will hold up his and my daughter will be cared for. But guess what, Maze? Sabrina doesn’t need my brother to watch over her. She’s grown now, and beautiful and powerful and everything a father could hope for his daughter to be. She’s going to be okay.”_

_Mazikeen shook her head, conflicted, pure acid on her tongue as she reasoned with a man who frowned on reason itself. “You don’t know that.”_

_“But I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me either if I spend one more minute in this place.” With a resolve set deep into his mind, he stepped away from her and unveiled his wings, towering and glorious and ready as ever to abandon the prison his father put him in. “I’m selfish, Mazikeen. It’s my one true fault. The only hope I have is that Sabrina can forgive me for it one day.”_

_(Little did he know that one day was only two years away, with his daughter undone in ways that he, himself, would never forgive. When he assumed that all would be well, perhaps he spoke too soon.)_

* * *

Lucifer shook the thought away as he trained his gaze back to his daughter on the couch, nervous and restless as she awaited whatever it was that he was about to say.

“You were saying something. About my father,” Sabrina pressed, anxiety written clear across her face as she braced herself for something that would inevitably hurt, would inevitably force her to pick up the pieces again _(not that she wasn’t used to it at this point)._

He pulled on a tight smile _(the kind that pinched so hard that it burned)._ “Yes, I do believe I owe you an explanation. Before that, though,” Lucifer stalled, trying to buy as much time as possible before he crushed his every hope under his own two feet and regretted every twist of selfishness that brought them where they were.

“Whatever happened to that cat of yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And she finally updates! I tried a new thing with this little flashback chapter. It's a bit different from my usual style, but I'm happy with it, nonetheless.
> 
> Question for the commenters: "What's your favorite line from the whole story so far?" Make sure to share your thoughts down below!
> 
> As always, it has been an absolute pleasure. Till next time <3


	9. Sadistic, Goat-Headed Asshole

Much to Hilda’s dread and Zelda’s morbid amusement, Ambrose discovered early on that the quickest way to calm a certain fussy toddler _(outside of herb-infused potions and silencing spells)_ was by sitting her in front of the telly to watch hours upon hours of gore-filled horror films. _(Rosemary’s Baby was a particular favorite, though Sabrina never realized the irony until much, much later)._ As she grew older, the fascination carried into weekly cinema trips and an affinity for Dr. Cerberus’ shop. It was not so much the excessive blood and butchered flesh that lured her in, but rather, it was the chase, the _will-this-screaming-blonde-die-yet_ thrill that kept her coming back each time. Above all that, though, the greatest thing about horror was the suspense.

As Sabrina sat with baited breath for whatever the club owner had to say _(it could have been anything, really, from her father escaping hell to never having been there at all),_ she might as well have been in a horror movie of her own design, and for the first time in a long while, the fear threatening to clench her insides was more real than she ever felt. _(Can the screaming blonde still die when angels themselves couldn’t kill her for more than five seconds?)_

Every passing breath stretched and lingered and dwelled, until she felt like an hourglass on the verge of tipping over. All the while, the man in front of her couldn’t even meet her eyes, a wistful, almost bittersweet look on his face as he stared ahead, unseeing. Had she been younger and kinder _(and slightly less traumatized),_ she would have asked him about his troubles and offered to fix them, herself. But nowadays, sixteen was no longer young, Sabrina Spellman _(Mornigstar)_ was no longer kind, and trauma came as easily as dawn.

Waiting was a losing game, and she intended to win.

“You were saying something. About my father,” she urged, meeting his gaze and refusing to break contact the moment he snapped back from his thoughts. He had her on the hook now, and he _will not_ shake her away, not until the suspense felt less like a pounding drum and more like the comfort it used to be.

The mirthless smile that she received in response was a weak attempt at solace that she was far too used to at that point. _(She first saw it when Hilda told her about the plane crash; since then, that smile never made its way out of her life)._ “Yes, I do believe I owe you an explanation. Before that, though,” he sent a look her way, plaintive and familiar, and she felt haunted by something bigger than herself. “Whatever happened to that cat of yours?”

Sabrina blinked once, twice, then several times over. “I’m sorry, are-” She shook her head in disbelief, confusion clouding her thoughts. “Are you talking about Salem?”

Lucifer almost smiled _(of course she would name her familiar over a witch massacre)._ “Black fur, easily enraged?” He saw the disturbed bewilderment on her face and let out a slight chuckle. “I could go on and on if you’d like, but it seems we’re already on the same page.”

“How did you-”

“Granted, if I had my way, you’d be better off with one of the hellhounds for a familiar. But Maze put up a fight, said I had to be more subtle with these things. Of course, that was rich, coming from her-”

Sabrina held up a finger, the beginnings of a headache hammering clear against her skull. Chalk it to confusion, insanity, or whatever else was ripping her evening apart much like a sixteen year old band-aid, but at that moment, the only reprieve she could find laid waiting at the bottom of her whiskey glass. With not so much as a second thought, she tipped it back with eyes closed. _(If this rambling was to go on for the rest of the night, she needed far more than willpower to keep her heart from imploding by the apprehension alone)._ “I realize that you’re trying to tell me something important, but if it’s gonna take a few more minutes of this before you get to the point, I’d really like to know beforehand so I can refill my drink.”

Lucifer almost bristled at the notion of anyone breaking a deal with the devil _(she had, after all, only promised to have one glass when the evening started)._ Still, he couldn’t hold her to it. To be fair, he was probably the root of her debauchery and disobedience in the first place _(turns out the forbidden fruit doesn’t fall that far from the tree)._

“Right,” Lucifer sighed, shaking away whatever remained of his haphazard thoughts. _(He had the chance to bide his time, all of sixteen years to be exact. Now there was nothing left but the truth, and his own pride and fear be damned, he will not keep it from her any longer.)_ “I apologize. My therapist says I tend to ramble when I’m trying to deflect painful conversation-”

Sabrina raised a brow. “You have a therapist?”

“Stay with me here, darling,” he intoned, holding both hands up in an effort to stop her from straying off course. “I promise there’s a point to all this, and I’m getting to it.”

She merely shrugged in response and gestured for him to go on.

“Thank you.” Lucifer nodded. “As I was saying, this bit of news I’m about to tell you is painful and difficult to admit out loud, but it’s long overdue, and you deserve to know.”

He looked at her then, at her eyes that would inevitably well up, at her mouth that would tremble and swear and curse at the father that left her. But in that moment, all he saw was Diana’s innocence in her doe-like gaze, Zelda’s steel in her hardened jaw, and Hilda’s gentleness in her upturned fingers, clasped almost in prayer as she hoped for the worst to be over. There was no doubt about it; his fears were unfounded. _(Perhaps he had it right the first time. Maybe she would be okay, after all.)_

Lucifer took a deep breath. _(This. This was the moment that was both dream and nightmare alike. Since she was born, there was always a hidden need at the back of his mind that wanted her to know, “You are my daughter. My flesh and blood, my pride and joy, my beginning and undoing. You are the greatest light I have ever made.” The same way, he found himself held back time and time again by the silent truth, ringing clear against his ears, that all light is consumed by darkness, and more often than not, the empty void left behind is by his own doing.)_

He cleared his throat. “It all started with a favor.”

* * *

 _Free will._ It was the one thing his faith was built on. And in the beginning, when all that people desired was power and immortality, that’s when the first breed of witches was blessed by his hands. Magic was the only gift he ever gave them, after all. Whatever empires and revolutions they built from it was entirely of their own choice. Little did he know he’d come to regret such choices, himself.

“It was fun at first. They were praising me, building churches in my honor.” He smiled bitterly at his own misplaced vanity. “I felt like I was no less than Father, himself.”

Quickly, though, it would all spiral into madness that even he couldn’t contain. _(The obsession with goats was one thing, but eating each other’s flesh, drinking each other’s blood, harrowing children and leading virgins to the slaughter; it was horror no different from the deepest bowels of hell)._ He was displeased, but he could not ask them to change. It would have been hypocrisy to preach freedom and choice, yet ask them to bend to his will _(commandments and prophets kept on strings were Father’s way, not his)._ If the Church of Night truly was to be redeemed, it should have been of their own volition, of their own need to correct their errors. Unfortunately, every High Priest and Anti-Pope that coveted the seat of power inched the covens closer to damnation more and more each time.

Then along came Edward Spellman.

Lucifer almost seethed at the name, but held himself back. _(That man had his poison, and now he was dead along with it)._ “This new priest, he was young, idealistic, powerful. He had all the makings to be different than the rest of them. After all, he had the one thing that would forever set him apart from all the witches and warlocks that ever walked the earth.” He closed his eyes, tasted an all-too-familiar remorse on his tongue. “He had Diana.”

Sabrina’s heart lurched at the mention of her mother, but she steeled her insides before she could break. _(She had questions, and doubts, and fears – too many to be exact – but she could not speak them now. If she did, they would never stop, and the man who seemingly had all the answers would never get the chance to finish)._ He looked at her, concerned, but she merely nodded her head for him to go on.

“I thought, ‘Maybe I could get to this one. Maybe he’d be the one to bring change after all these years.’ And I was right. The Church was reformed and he did all of it on his own.” She caught his gaze just then and was surprised to see his eyes glow red with barely-held venom, no different than hers when rage first brought her back to life _(Her blood sang to the tune of a new belonging, and it felt right, somehow_. _She knew who he was, but couldn’t admit it out loud)._

“I should have known it was for a price, of course.” Lucifer scoffed, dark and hollow, disappointed at his own guilelessness. “Always for a price.”

With a sharp exhale, he got up from his seat and walked over to the bar, Sabrina’s eyes following him with a silent incredulity all the while. He continued his story even as he fixed himself a stronger drink than he would have liked. “A small favor, come to think of it. He asked for a child. He and Diana were trying for years, but no spell or potion could give them what they wanted. I thought it simple enough. I mean, Father sent my brothers to bless humans with children all the time.”

His face soured as he emptied the glass in one gulp.

“It wasn’t like that, though.” He had a grim look to him as he sank back down to his seat across from her. “I soon realized that I didn’t have the same gifts as Amenadiel. I couldn’t channel the divine light of life the way he could. But…Edward was relentless, and I was, too. After all, the Devil never left a favor ungranted. So in the end, I did give him a child.”

Sabrina held her breath as the next words were softly uttered from his mouth.

“I gave him mine.”

Slowly, tears prickled at her eyes and she stood, affronted. She was out of air, out of words, but the room felt like a box that closed in more and more with every passing second, and she couldn’t take it any longer. “So _you’re_ my father, is that what you’re trying to say?” She inched closer, and though it escaped her, the light fixtures swung from overhead and the walls trembled and shook with every step forward. “That I’ve been lied to and deceived more than I thought?”

“Child, calm yourself.” Lucifer grabbed ahold of her shoulders when she stopped in front of him, but she only wriggled free from his grasp. Bottles behind the bar began falling off the shelves and the whole penthouse was filled with the violent cacophony of shattering glass and harsh winds whipping through the heavy drapes.

Sabrina chuckled humourlessly. “Calm myself?" _(As much as she didn’t want to believe his words, everything about him, from his wry smile to_ _his blazing eyes, was familiar. Though they’d just met, he was no stranger to her, and her own wry smile and blazing eyes knew why)._ “This isn’t the first time I heard all this, you know. You’re about the second Lucifer Morningstar to come up to me and call me his daughter. Knowing this, how do you expect me to feel after everything? And don’t you dare say calm.”

For a moment, Lucifer lost focus on his rage-filled child and the apartment torn into disarray before him. _(No one was supposed to know about Sabrina’s satanic nature. The truth was supposed to die along with Edward and Diana all those years ago. But to hear that an imposter took both his name and his greatest secret set him on edge)._ He drew in a long breath, steadied himself. _(One at a time,_ Linda would say. _One at a time)._ “You can’t go around listening to every stranger that comes barging into your life.”

“Right, but I should listen to you, is that it?” She looked at him sharply, and if given a choice, she would have done so for hours upon hours, but she soon found that she couldn’t hold her anger for much longer. _(Twice. Two times she was fooled about her parentage, and the first instance, she held onto her wrath as it twisted and coiled within her until she was on the verge of collapse. Now, as tempting as it was to allow the red heat of rage to carry her from one disaster to the next, her temper seeped out of her in stubborn flashes, leaving nothing but a tired, beaten-down girl who just wanted a father who wouldn’t leave this time around)._

Sabrina looked at him, his calloused fingers, his grief-stricken eyes, and wondered how things would have worked out had he stayed _(Would those fingers have tucked her in at night, drove her to school, taught her to dance in her pyjamas? Would those eyes have lit up at the sight of her each morning?)_ She shook the thought away with a shuddering exhale. It wasn’t much use mulling it over. It only mattered whether he stayed or not, and they both knew which one he chose.

“I-I can’t do this.” She wiped at her eyes and turned her back on him, and all at once, the room stopped shaking and the only thing that lingered in the air was silence. _(She came to terms long ago that she was the Devil’s daughter. It was nothing new, nothing earth-shattering. What surprised her, however, was that the Devil was gentle and sullen and sad, and she wished she had known sooner, because maybe she would have turned out a lot better if he was the one who showed up at Greendale instead of the sadistic, goat-headed asshole that wanted to marry her)._ “This is too much right now. I have to go.”

With a flick of the wrist, her bags were back in her hands and she was already halfway across the room. _(If she stayed there a moment longer, she feared that she would have embraced him, accepted him, forgiven him. Not that he deserved it – he still abandoned her, after all – but at that moment, she was so achingly desperate for a friend, let alone a father, that she probably wouldn’t have given it much thought. She could only imagine the way Zelda would look down on the pitiful, pathetic mess loneliness turned her into)._

She needed to leave before she became somebody she would regret.

“Sabrina, wait.” Lucifer understood her need to escape, to run away just like she did before _(still a runner, no doubt)._ He didn’t plan on stopping her. After everything that’s been said and done, however, he couldn’t let her slip through his grasp again without hearing the words he should have said a long time ago. “You’re my daughter, and I...I never should have walked away from you. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I never left. I hope you know that.”

Conflicted, she glanced back at him, torn between empathy and anger. Eventually, she settled on a silent disappointment, instead. “No,” she uttered with a shake of her head. “No, I don't.”

With one last lingering look, she shut the door behind her, and the only thing left of her presence was the wrecked penthouse and her newly-found father, standing exhausted in the middle of it all.

Stepping over the broken glass and downturned furniture, Lucifer made his way to the bar and picked up the nearest bottle he could find intact. As he set it down on the countertop and screwed the cap loose with one hand, he scrolled through his phone with the other, raising it to his ear as it started to ring.

“Mazikeen,” he breathed, chasing the greeting away with a swig of alcohol. “I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho, ho, ho and Merry Christmas to this awesome fandom!
> 
> I wasn't supposed to update till early January, but I figured it's the holidays, and the most awesome readers ever deserve a special gift. Speaking of gifts, there's only one thing on my wishlist this year (and I'm hope I'm not asking for too much, because this would only take about 30 seconds of your time), and that's for each of you to drop your favorite line from the story on the comments section down below. It would mean the world to me to see that my words are read and appreciated (and have hopefully made their way close to your heart). The chapters that I publish every month are not always the longest, but know that I put the best effort into them each time, because I love all my readers and you guys deserve the best! I just hope I'm doing it right <3
> 
> Anywhooo, the truth is finally out, and we've got a flustered father, a conflicted daughter, and a demonic aunt coming in hot in our next chapter, so stay tuned!
> 
> Till next time!
> 
> P.S. (Pro-tip: comments, long or short, are literally the lifeblood of this story. Feel free to type away below, knowing that you're helping me get one step closer to creative motivation each time *wink wink*)


	10. Demonic Delivery Person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tweaked a bit of Lucifer and Sabrina's ending conversation in the last chapter (not that much, just a few words here and there), so you might wanna check that out first :)

The aftermath of the chaotic revelation at Lux should have been earth-shattering, catastrophic, disastrous…but all in all, it was surprisingly quiet. Lucifer mostly kept to himself the remainder of the night, staying within the confines of the exploded glass and splintered wood of what used to be an immaculate penthouse. Not even the pristine ivory piano keys could tempt him into making a sound _(Drawn-out silences usually bothered him, left him unhinged. It was a peace too close to the Silver City. Now, though, he couldn’t really bring himself to care)._

Instead, the only sound that filled the air was liquid sloshing around in a bottle as he paced back and forth across the room, drinking himself into a stupor. When he inevitably passed out from the tremendous amount of alcohol a few hours later, the silence remained unbroken for the rest of the evening _(that was, until a certain graceless demon stepped out of the elevator and kicked his unconscious body awake with an all-too-familiar exasperation)._

Even for Sabrina, the rest of the night was relatively uneventful _(though, really, even a snowstorm in the heat of coastal California would have been a complete non-event compared to the recent developments in her already-confusing family history)._

Still in a daze after the unexpected confession from her father _(it was hard to believe that in a matter of months, that single title was already given to three different people),_ she spent some time wandering aimlessly along the Sunset Strip, deep in thought and with no clear destination in sight, just walking and staring and musing, no regard whatsoever for her aching feet and the sheer number of scantily-dressed club hoppers she kept bumping into. Eventually, though, she was awoken from her self-induced trance when she felt the unmistakable brush of fur against her leg.

“Salem?” She looked down, confused, at the little black cat that circled her feet. Putting down her bags for a moment, she picked him up, petting his fur as she cuddled him close. “What are you doing in Los Angeles?”

Before leaving Greendale, Sabrina debated for a long time on whether or not she should bring her familiar with her on the trip. On one hand, he could have kept her company, giving her a tangible reminder of home as she explored this strange new city. On the other, it wasn’t worth the risk of him becoming too fussy and hostile in the presence of other pets _(there was a reason, after all, why familiars weren’t allowed at the academy)._ In the end, though, she ultimately decided against it and left him in Theo’s care for the time being _(if she wanted to leave all remnants of magic behind, stringing along a supernatural spirit would have been rather counter-productive)._

Salem was never one to object once Sabrina made up her mind _(which she actually found quite strange, hearing all her classmates groan and grumble on how long it took them to train their familiars into submission),_ so she knew he would be patiently waiting for her when she got back. Not that his presence wasn’t a comfort _(somehow, he arrived at the perfect time, just when Sabrina needed a companion to brave the endless night with her),_ but it brought forth too many confusing questions that she wasn’t entirely sure she’d have the answers to.

Pulling him away from her chest and raising him up to her face, she levelled him with a stern look. “Salem, you’re not supposed to be here. You know the rules. You don’t show up unless you’re summoned.”

For the passerby striding past them on the street, it painted quite a confusing picture. After all, you don’t go out past midnight at the heart of L.A. nightlife just to see a pasty teenage girl blocking the path, holding a cat at eye level as she gave it a good scolding. Even stranger, the animal had the audacity to look guilty, seemingly explaining itself with a series of frantic meows _(if the girl somehow looked as if she understood every single word of it, you’d best chalk it up to the very good party drugs being given away at the club)._

“What do you mean my father summoned you? You don’t even–” The rest of her words died in her throat as realization suddenly dawned on her. She put him back on the ground, voice suddenly soft, a weak disbelief in her eyes as they flickered to him. “You knew about him, didn’t you?”

The cat avoided her gaze and looked anywhere besides her, licking its paw in faux innocence.

“Salem,” she warned, her gentle tone betrayed by a hidden threat.

With a bristle of his fur, he finally relented, explaining as much as he could in a series of meows. _(He was never in the mood for a cross-state trip, actually. Theo was very liberal with the treats, and it was nice to just sit around all day without worrying about his mistress’s next reckless scheme. But then his true master and creator – her father, now that everything was out in the open – came calling for the first time, and before he knew it, he was dropped into the middle of L.A. just when his human looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.)_

Sabrina blew out a deep breath and looked to the sky as she tried to process this new information. So apparently, her familiar always acted out of the ordinary because he was never a familiar at all, but rather a demon made especially for her guidance and protection by her estranged devil father. Beyond that, Salem knew about her parentage the whole time, yet never said a word _(or rather, made a meow)_ even as she got into her latest hellish escapades, all because it was allegedly something she was never supposed to know about. Now that all gloves were off, though, he was quick to fill her in on his demonic origins and the apparent blood pact he had in servitude to the antichrist.

Trying to wrap her head around the latest bombshell of the evening _(She took it back. It was shaping up to be quite eventful, after all),_ Sabrina started pacing around in little circles, hands on her hips the way her aunt always did while trying to clean up her messes. “This is a lot to take in. So were you-were you spying on me for him or something? Is that why he made you?”

Salem made a disgruntled noise at that and Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Yes, you mentioned your sole purpose was to keep me out of trouble.” She whispered the next part under her breath. “Not that you were very good at it.”

Affronted, the cat swiped at her feet, and Sabrina swiftly jumped out of the way, hands held up in defense. “Okay, okay, that was out of line. I’m sorry.”

She sighed as she crouched down to his level, palms on her knees. The young witch held her arms out to the familiar, and hesitantly _(her actions always straddled the fine line between making bad decisions and endangering everyone in close proximity; neither one boded well for the demonic feline at that moment),_ Salem jumped into them, clinging close to her as she stood, stroking his fur. “You’ve saved my life more times than I could count this past year, and for what it’s worth, I think you’ve done an excellent job at keeping me alive.”

She rested her chin on the top of his head as a new thought came to mind. “I suppose Lucifer couldn’t be so bad, if he thought to put you in my path.” _(Dad. He was not Lucifer, or the Dark Lord, or the Prince of Evil. At the end of the day, he was just “Dad”. But after everything that transpired that evening, it didn’t feel quite right to call him by the name just yet. So at the moment, for all intents and purposes, he was simply Lucifer Morningstar; the jittery club owner who abandoned her at birth, left her to fend for herself, and showed up sixteen years later just to get her out of jail. He just so happened to get her an awesome demonic birthday present along the way, too.)_

Salem snuggled closer as she scoffed to herself. “Not that I’d ever tell him that, of course.”

* * *

Sabrina’s second day in L.A. got off to a rocky start. With barely five hours of sleep, she was already jolted awake by the sun filtering in through the broken blinds and shining on her closed eyes for a solid two minutes.

Both she and Salem spent the rest of the night wandering the length of Sunset Strip in search of a place to turn in. Just when she was on the verge of placing a numbing spell on her poor, aching feet, they chanced upon a budget motel that was pretty loose when it came to pets _(though to be fair, Salem offered multiple times to possess a dead body for the evening just so they could get into a much nicer, non-pet-friendly place, but Sabrina wasn’t quite ready to add “sleeping next to a corpse” on her trauma roster for the year)._

Not that Sabrina was ever used to a life of luxury _(however, one would be surprised with how much a mortuary makes in a month),_ but the place was rundown even by her own easy-going standards. The sheets were scratchy, the bedside lamp was broken, and even Salem let out a sound or two over the questionable stains on the carpet. Thankfully, it was nothing a quick spell or two _(or twenty)_ couldn’t fix. Still, it didn’t make for much of a comfortable evening.

And so, when morning came _(despite a quiet pounding in her head and the eventual realization that she hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s breakfast),_ she was just glad to get out of there. That was, until she noticed slight movement from the corner of her eye and whipped her head around to see someone watching her from the nearby armchair.

The woman in question had dark skin, with hair framing her face in large waves. She was dressed in black leather, legs crossed nonchalantly, all the while twirling a butterfly knife between her fingers _(First a gun, and now this. Sabrina had to seriously wonder if Californians had a thing for violent assault weapons)._ What was most unsettling, however, was the way she smiled, as if she was trying her hardest to look friendly but didn’t quite grasp the whole concept of it just yet.

“Princess, you’re finally up!” She put the knife away in her back pocket and stood, arms spread out as if to hug the girl. Sabrina quickly drew a symbol in the air, and in a matter of seconds, it was inscribed on the floor, light bursting from every curve as it created an invisible wall of magic between her and the woman.

“Don’t you dare come any closer,” the witch ground out, suddenly alert. She shuffled out of bed, dragging the sheets along with her as if the cheap cocoon of cotton could offer much protection. “It’s too early in the morning for another death threat, and _I am not amused._ ”

It was a charming sight: the antichrist with bed hair, glaring daggers at her from across the room. Mazikeen could only chuckle in response, sharp teeth bared as she looked on in fondness _(what a feisty little thing Lucifer’s daughter turned out to be; it was hard to imagine she was the same baby in the photos who blew raspberries at her aunts during bath time and made silly faces everytime her cousin fed her vegetables)._

The woman crossed her arms and stepped over the sigil on the ground with ease, the lines glowing a faint red but mostly leaving her unharmed. “Well, I for one, find your little drawings here very amusing.” She grinned up at the teenage girl who only frowned at her in confusion. “Spell work might be a little rusty, but hey, what do I know?”

Sabrina shook her head in bewilderment. It didn’t make any sense. Yes, she was groggy and hungry and half-asleep, but the runes were drawn to perfection and they should have worked. _(Nick taught her the symbols, himself, back at the academy, and every single time, they held up an infallible layer of pure protective magic that instantly stunned any witch or mortal alike who dared cross it)._

There was nothing rusty about her spell work _(how dare that woman even imply such a thing),_ and Sabrina knew it. The only reason it shouldn’t have harmed her was if she was _neither_ witch nor mortal in the first place. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place and the girl was so sure she had it right this time around. “Tell me your name!” She demanded, authority clear in her voice as her confidence returned.

Maze smirked slightly _(she was more like her father than she expected)._ With a practiced defiance, she ignored the order and sat herself at the edge of the bed, eyeing her nails in boredom. “Nice try, princess, but no decent demon is dumb enough to speak their true name to a witch. Lucifer would never let me live it down if I got banished back to hell by a teenage girl.”

Her eyes flickered to the witch who was growing more and more disgruntled with every passing second _(A name, after all, was all she needed to create an Acheron, or call out a trapping spell, or seal her off in hell. She couldn’t believe a few unknown syllables were the only thing that stood between her and an upper hand)._ “Just so we’re properly introduced, though, you can go right ahead and call me Auntie Maze.”

Sensing no imminent threat _(Salem would have clawed out his fellow demon’s eyes the moment she stepped into the room if she was actually a danger to his mistress. Considering that the cat was still lazily stretched out in the carpet, watching the pair of them in humor, Sabrina figured her earlier panic was really all for nothing),_ the girl lowered herself into a deflated heap on the armchair. Running a tired hand down her face, she peeked at Maze between her fingers. “Let me guess. My father sent you, didn’t he?”

_(Sabrina was slowly starting to accept that this trip was going to be less of a vacation and more of a challenge on how much Lucifer Morningstar could fuck up her life in one week)._

Mazikeen beamed her usual not-quite-smile. “Good, you’re all caught up. Now,” she produced a paper bag seemingly out of nowhere and threw it to Sabrina. The girl, caught by surprise, made no move to catch it, but it managed to land in her lap just the same. “Lucifer sent this for you. He has a little note in there, I think. Or it might just be the receipt. Doesn’t really matter.”

Before Sabrina could make another sound, the demon was already halfway out the door, her next words thrown over her shoulder as she didn’t even bother to look back. “I’ll be waiting in the car downstairs. You have 15 minutes.”

And just like that, Maze was gone as if she was never there at all, save for the glowing rune marks on the carpet and the confused girl staring dumbfounded at the door. She trained her gaze on Salem and gave him a flinty look. “You better explain to me what the hell all that was, or I’m leaving you here in California and I will not summon you back.”

The familiar shot back a wide-eyed meow in his defense and crawled back under the covers _(The few short months they’d spent together, the demon found that it was best to retreat and ride out the storm whenever Sabrina started making empty threats. One wrong move, and they wouldn’t be so empty at all)._

With a groan _(for someone in a supposed blood vow to her service, her familiar held a blatant disregard for loyalty when it was no longer convenient),_ the young witch figured whatever answers she was looking for probably laid waiting inside the crumpled brown bag. As she tore it open, the first thing that greeted her was the otherworldly scent of freshly-baked pastries, carefully nestled in an intricate red box _(she didn’t miss the way it mirrored the exact shade of yesterday’s sweater)_ that looked to be more expensive than her hotel room. True to her word, stuck to the package’s lid was the letter that Maze mentioned, drawn out in loopy cursive that actually would have looked nice had the writer not scribbled it out in a half-drunken haze.

_Dearest Sabrina,_

_I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but this is really very important. We left things in a tense state last night, and though I don’t blame you at the slightest, I understand that it’s not the best start to a healthy relationship. Still, you’ve asked for some space, and I’ve given it. Now that we’ve both had a good night’s rest (at least, I hope you did. I’m still rather hungover), I’d like to try again in getting to know you a bit better._

_You mentioned yesterday that you hadn’t eaten since your flight, and considering the hurry you were in a few hours ago, I think it’s safe to assume you’re quite hungry at the moment. Fret not, I sent over an assortment of treats from California’s best patisserie. I wasn’t really sure what you’d like (hence, the need for the getting-to-know-you part), so I sent over one of everything. Also, none of them are poisoned, if you’re worried about that._

_I hope my demonic delivery person didn’t give you too much of a fright. Maze comes off a bit strong, but she wouldn’t hurt you…I hope. Even if she did try, you could just banish her to the pit till she learns her lesson. Her real name’s Mazikeen, just in case she’s being stubborn about it._

_Lastly, do dress warmly for the day. The air-conditioning tends to run a bit cold where we’re going. You can bring Salem along, if you’d like. Whatever makes you comfortable._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Lucifer (Or father. Or dad. It’s up to you, really.)_

As soon as Sabrina read through the words, she folded the paper back up with a quirk of her brow. She didn’t really think she could carry on unscathed with the rest of her getaway after the heavy truths she had to face last night. Like it or not, her father was here in the city, and it wasn’t the kind of reality that would go away no matter how much she ignored it. She wasn’t entirely ready to accept him into her life and act as if his absence early on hadn’t left a deep scar, a palpable void, but with all things, she had to move forward someway. And maybe that way involved facing him again today.

With a determined huff, she gathered up her things and headed into the bathroom to change _(warmly, like he said)._

She hummed to herself as she readied for the morning. _This should be quite interesting._

* * *

A few moments later, both she and Salem were cruising down the speedway with Mazikeen behind the wheel _(the demon couldn’t be killed by petty mortal things, and she sure as hell drove like it),_ and though Sabrina was immortal herself, it was basic human instinct to strap her seatbelt on tight and hold on for dear life.

“Just out of curiosity,” the young witch began, struggling to speak against the rapid winds blowing against her face as they sped down in the bounty hunter’s convertible. “Where are we headed to, anyway?”

“Dr. Linda Martin’s office.”

“Who’s that?”

Maze smirked and pushed her foot deeper down the gas pedal. “You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and notes left behind last chapter! Safe to say, I got pretty inspired by your insights and churned out this latest installment as quickly as possible. It was really such a great help, motivation-wise, that I want to make it a permanent thing, if that's okay with you guys. With every chapter I post, be sure to comment whatever line or passage you liked best. It's a huge aid when I'm figuring out the things I'm doing right with this story, and I love hearing your insights every time!
> 
> (Not to mention, frequent updates are a huge bonus for the both of us *wink wink*).
> 
> The people have spoken, and it's about time we brought Dr. Linda into the loop. What other scenes (besides the potential revelation and showdown between the two Lucifers) would you like to see in future chapters? Be sure to comment down below!
> 
> As always, all the love, and till next time <3


	11. Excitingly Non-Celestial

In hindsight, Mazikeen was having a pretty good day _(she hooked two escaped convicts, bought a new pair of nunchucks, and met a guy who was into some pretty freaky stuff on Tinder, not necessarily in that order)._ But then of course, Lucifer had to ruin it by calling her in for some odd job that he weirdly didn’t want to discuss _(he usually spared no detail, the gorier, the better)._ After getting the gist of the whole situation from his drunken rambling, though, she was pleasantly surprised to find out that the Devil’s little witchling was loose in L.A., and who better to reel her in than hell’s best bounty hunter?

_(More than the eternal indebtedness to Lucifer, she, herself, was itching to know how the wide-eyed angel child turned out. At sixteen, she was already at a prime age to learn the basics of torturing)._

Though Sabrina was more or less what she expected _(beautiful like her mother and annoyingly self-assured like her father),_ there were a few new discoveries that came as a genuine disappointment to the demon. First, the girl did not inherit her dad’s glorious pair of angel wings _(impromptu trips to the pit were out of the question, then)_. Second, she was short and skinny and was about as intimidating as folded linen. And third, she seemed to be more human than antichrist, and despite riding in a badass vehicle with two demons at her beck and call, she didn’t have an awful lot to share.

“I know I’m not the best at human conversation,” Maze began, eyes drifting briefly to the teenager before focusing them back on the road _(she was one accident away from being blacklisted by every insurance company in L.A., and she’d rather not ask her former boss for another favor)_. “But I find it hard to believe that any child of Lucifer could go ten minutes without making a single sound.”

Sabrina made no move to turn away from her view of the speeding landscapes, chin resting on her palm as she stared out her side of the door _(it wasn’t like she could make out much of anything with how fast they were going, but the trademark Starbucks green that lined every street corner was pretty hard to miss, and silently, she made a game out of counting how many of those stood between her motel and the so-called doctor’s office)._ Meanwhile, Salem lay curled on her lap, undisturbed from his nap despite the thumping bass of Maze’s party music blasting out the stereo. “Maybe I don’t have anything to say,” the girl said flatly.

Mazikeen scoffed. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Sabrina raised a brow, but remained relatively unfazed. _(Inside, she knew it was complete, utter bullshit, indeed. But she wasn’t about to admit that out loud.)_ “Really?” The feigned interest was a ballsy jab at the demon, but Lucifer said that Mazikeen was somewhat harmless, and the teenager was partly curious as to how far said harmlessness went. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

Maze rolled her eyes and sent a smirk towards the witch, though it went unnoticed as the girl’s focus remained out the window _(she was currently at Starbucks number 7, but she could see a couple more up ahead)_. “I know what you’re playing at, princess. It isn’t gonna work.”

“You sure about that?”

_(The snark was too damn familiar, and Mazikeen almost wished that pictures could talk, because she was so sure that the photographs Amenadiel had stolen away and brought to hell would have been ten times more amusing with the sound of the little girl pissing off her aunts with the trademark Morningstar snideness)._

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her grin from growing any wider. “You’ve got one demon asleep on your lap, and another chauffeuring you around Los Angeles at the request of your father, who, by the way, also happens to be Satan himself. You could not find a better conversation-starter in the whole universe, no matter how hard you try.”

_(Of course, Mazikeen was right, and Sabrina knew it. Still, the fact remained that polite chit-chat was the last thing on her mind – it was under a lot of stress at the moment, thank you very much – and all she wanted was to go back to counting her coffee shops in peace even if just to distract herself for a while)._

“You know what? Yes, you’re right. I do have a lot to say, but unfortunately, the one person worth saying them to isn’t here.” All at once, whatever amusement the demon had on her face was wiped clean, and Sabrina let out a breath when she realized her thoughts had inevitably circled back to her father without her noticing. As much as she wanted to deny the impact of last night, it was clear that whatever truths she discovered sat heavy on her mind, and it would take much more than silent road trip games and a nosy demonic driver to put her at ease. _(Maybe an earnest conversation wouldn’t be as bad as she thought)._

The witchling brought a hand up to her temple and closed her eyes in frustration. “I’m sorry, that came out of nowhere. I just-I don’t understand.” She shifted in her seat to face her companion completely. “If he wanted to fix things so bad, why didn’t he come get me himself? Why did he have to send someone else?”

“If it helps, I’m not technically a ‘someone’. You can’t really group demons into people categories.”

At the very least, Maze’s weak attempt at comfort was able to draw a slight chuckle from Sabrina. _(She was obviously no good at it, but to her credit, she tried)._ “That just makes it worse, I think.”

Mazikeen was not cut out for this. Yeah, she was pretty good with giving advice, as long as it came to torture and sex and general human suffering. But _feelings? (If they weren’t on a strict schedule, she would have pulled over and gagged behind the nearest bush)._ It was a good thing they were going to Linda, because Maze sure as hell couldn’t deal with this chaotic surge of teenage emotions on her own, but for the sake of the miserable-looking girl on the passenger seat, maybe she could stomach just enough of it to get them through the rest of their trip.

She tapped her fingers frantically against the steering wheel as she tried to figure out the right thing to say. “Look, I can’t really speak for Lucifer because I have no idea what his plans are. And honestly-speaking, they’re probably terrible and weren’t given much thought.”

Sabrina made an odd sound from the back of her throat. _(She didn’t know which part of all that was meant to be reassuring)._ “That’s not very-”

“But,” Maze continued, ignoring the young witch’s interjection. “Knowing him, however stupid and reckless his plans are, at least where you’re involved, they always come from a place of…of…”

The demon had to pause as she struggled to get the despicable word off her tongue. _(She was a bounty hunter, goddamit. Lucifer wasn’t paying her enough for this)._

“A place of love,” she finished, trying her best not to cringe. _(She didn’t get why humans tended to slap on mushy sentiments like cheap band-aids whenever they had metaphorical wounds, but it always seemed to work in the cartoons she and Trixie watched before school, and she wasn’t about to question it)._

All the while, Sabrina took in her little speech with a relative amount of sympathy. _(From the looks of it, those few short words were physically painful to say. And if she was gonna be honest, it was quite painful to watch, as well)._ Even though it didn’t do much in terms of comfort, she was grateful for the gesture all the same. _(She was glad she knew some nice people in L.A., even if the so-called people weren’t really people at all and had a track record for clawing out of hell)._ “Thanks, I guess. That was really sweet.”

Mazikeen brushed the compliment away with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t make a habit of it, princess.”

Distracted _(maybe the demon’s methods worked better than she thought),_ Sabrina raked a hand through Salem’s fur as he began to stir in her lap. “Why do you keep calling me that, anyway?”

It was a valid question. There was nothing normal, after all, about the witch meeting a full-fledged demon that a) wasn’t sent to kill her, and b) called her by a name that wasn’t half-breed or whore. Still, it didn’t stop Maze from doing a double-take, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Because that’s what your name means,” she answered slowly, as if it was a common fact that the girl should have known a long time ago. “Sabrina means princess. Lucifer made that pretty clear when I kept bugging him about his random name choice.”

Sabrina’s fingers stilled halfway through combing her familiar’s fur _(Salem made a little meow of protest, though his petty complaints were the last thing on his mistress’s mind)._ She shot Maze an accusatory look. “No, that can’t be right. My mother gave me my name.”

Mazikeen frowned back. “No, Lucifer did. Diana wanted him to name you, and he asked that you be called Sabrina. Not that you were ever supposed to find out, but he found it fitting for the king of hell’s only child.”

_(Her whole life, she loved her name even if it didn’t tie her to the Spellmans – the women in their family always had nice, traditional names that were passed on through generations – because it tied her to her mother, instead. Sabrina was supposed to be her human side, her mortal side, connecting her to Diana. But now, she realized it was all a lie. At the very least, it was a testament to how her father actually cared enough to put some thought to what she was called. Still, much like every new discovery made in this trip, she didn’t know what to do with it)._

This time around, when Sabrina grew quiet once again, Maze knew better than to get her to talk. _(Unfortunately, she was very good at breaking fragile humans apart, but pretty fucking bad at putting them back together)._

The demon sighed as they pulled into the parking spot in front of the clinic.

_(Maybe it was for the best. Linda could use a new challenge every now and then)._

* * *

Linda was having a pretty good day, too. She had a spa appointment in the afternoon, the patients she had lined up for the day were relatively tame _(and excitingly non-celestial),_ and the neighbor took his dog with him on vacation, so no incessant barking kept her up the whole night. All in all, it was shaping up to be a refreshingly normal morning.

Except it wasn’t.

“Good morning, doctor!” Lucifer greeted a bit too brightly, bursting through the door in his usual disregard for private property. “Apologies for not calling sooner, but I was hoping you could squeeze me in for a quick chat.”

The therapist made a mental note that door locks weren’t applicable to the devil _(still, for the sake of her human patients, they needed to be replaced)._ She sighed and massaged a hand against her steadily aching temple. “Lucifer, I can’t. I’m with another patient right now.”

The devil’s eyes drifted to the bearded man on the couch who was halfway through his second box of Kleenex. He scrunched his nose in disgust, but to Linda’s utter relief, the expected stream of insults never followed. “Right. What’s wrong with you?

“M-my wife left me,” the patient managed to mumble before erupting in a fresh wave of tears. The doctor closed her eyes in exasperation _(Just when they were doing so well. He was about to return the box of tissues before Lucifer came barging in)._

“Hardly something to cry about. You should be celebrating, being a bachelor again and everything.” The club owner chuckled to himself, but his trademark grin quickly faded when the divorcee didn’t seem the least bit amused. With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out a thick wad of cash from his jacket pocket and tossed it to the other man. “Well, if you want a wife so bad, you can go buy yourself a new one. Maybe take a trip to Vegas. That’s where I got mine last time.”

“Lucifer!” Linda chided, appalled. _(He wasn’t usually the most well-behaved client, but terrorizing fellow patients was a new low even for him)._ She levelled him with a stern look before shifting her gaze back to the man on the couch. “Jerry, I’m so sorry-”

The rest of her words went ignored as the divorcee took one long look at the cash, shrugged his shoulders, and swiftly walked out the door. To say that Linda was stunned was a complete understatement as she watched his retreating figure gingerly disappear from her line of sight.

Lucifer lowered himself on the newly-empty sofa with a self-satisfied smirk, crossing his legs as he addressed the doctor. “I take it you’re available now?”

Linda’s mouth was left hanging open for a few good seconds as she struggled to gather the right words that would capture exactly how she felt. Quite soon, however, she realized that such words simply didn’t exist, and settled on the most rational alternative, instead. “What the hell, Lucifer?”

“Pun intended, I hope?” The devil laughed at his own joke _(he was getting quite good at this),_ before realizing that he was the only one who found it funny. Linda was still looking properly pissed. He cleared his throat. “Alright, that was too much. But this is just really very important.”

“So important that you practically bribed another patient just to get his spot?” The doctor seethed in disbelief.

“Yes, and you’ll know why in just a minute.” He broke away from her glare and called his next words out the door. “Maze, you can come in now!”

At that point, Linda already had her head in her hands, so sure that she jinxed herself for planning such a perfect morning _(really, she should have known by now that those things didn’t exist, at least not for her)._ “Maze is here? Please don’t tell me you tried to kill each other again.”

Lucifer waved her away with scoff. “Don’t be silly, doctor. This little therapy session isn’t for her.”

Linda watched as her demonic friend marched into the room, an exhausted look on her face, followed by an icy-haired girl with a cat in her arms _(the doctor didn’t normally allow animals in her clinic, but her curiosity over the whole scene was enough to let it slide just this once)._ The teenager was deathly pale by California standards, and the hesitant way she trailed after Mazikeen suggested that she wasn’t entirely sure of what was going on. As the demon went ahead and dropped herself on the nearest armchair, there was nowhere else left to sit but the couch, and so the girl carefully perched herself on the edge, making sure to place as much distance as humanly possible between her and Lucifer.

“It’s for my daughter, Sabrina,” Lucifer finished, beaming at the teenager who promptly looked away in indignation. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed about it, though, and continued to smile at the doctor as if the whole thing was perfectly ordinary _(News flash: it was not. It was so very not)._

A few seconds passed as Linda just sat there, staring at the three with a vaguely unreadable look on her face _(Maze saw the same thing happen to a man she stabbed in the neck before. Though, to be fair, her friend’s blood supply still seemed to be intact)._ Eventually, the silence was broken as the doctor’s senses apparently returned at full force, eyebrows nearly shooting out of her forehead as the devil’s words completely sank in. “I’m sorry, what?”

_(Maybe she just misheard. Her hearing has been troublesome lately. He didn’t say daughter. He probably said “water” or “otter” or something)._

Lucifer closed his eyes as if just remembering something important. “Oh, how rude of me. I didn’t introduce you yet.” He turned back to the girl who only scooched away further, until she was mere inches from falling off the sofa. “Sabrina, this is Dr. Linda. Trust me, she’s amazing. She’ll solve all our problems before you even know it. And Dr. Linda, this is my firstborn, Sabrina. She’s not always this shy. Probably just first day therapy jitters.”

_(Huh. So she wasn’t going deaf. He actually said daughter)._

“Um, hello…Sabrina. It’s very nice to meet you.” Linda managed to edge out in a calm voice _(Though on the inside, she was most definitely not calm. How does one respond, anyway, when meeting the devil’s secret children?)_

To the doctor’s surprise, whatever cold shoulder the girl was planning to give her father didn’t extend to the therapist, and she quickly answered back with a tight _(albeit uncomfortable-looking)_ smile. “Hello.”

Linda blew out a long breath. She had questions. So many, in fact, that to answer them all, she’d probably have to cancel that afternoon spa appointment _(and just when she needed a solid neck rub)._ But as a therapist _(a damn good one, too),_ no other question seemed to matter more at the moment than the most important one. “So…what brings you here?”

Lucifer, who seemed previously distracted by trying to get his defiant daughter to talk to him _(the girl appeared to have a talent at ignoring his attention-seeking habits),_ immediately perked up at the question and cleared his throat. “I’m glad you asked, doctor. You see, Sabrina got in trouble yesterday for burning a man in hellfire. She may have also inherited a bit of my alcoholism and destroyed the penthouse in the process.” At that, Maze made an impressed sound from the back of her throat and Sabrina broke free from her impenetrable layer of passiveness just to glare at her father. “As for me, I may or may not have abandoned her at birth and only introduced myself sixteen years later. So there’s that.”

The doctor looked back and forth between the pair of them, dumbfounded _(Now that she saw it, though, there was a bit of resemblance. The eyes, for sure)._ When Lucifer introduced his bodyguard/bartender/best friend who was a demon, she was taken aback. When he brought his handsome, soldier-of-God brother, she was all for it. Even when his crazy I’m-shooting-divine-light-out-of-my-stomach mother came marching into the picture, Linda thought, “Sure, might as well happen.” But _this._ This innocent-looking little girl who just met her father and apparently _had access to hellfire_ had to be one for the books.

Linda blinked profusely. “What do you expect me to do about it, then?”

The devil gave her an odd look, as if the answer was obvious. “You help us work through it, of course! Sabrina and I got off on the wrong foot, but I’m sure we’ll get everything cleared up once you’re done with us.”

Internally, Linda made another mental note to cancel her spa appointment. And her dinner plans. And probably her trip to the Bahamas next summer. _(It seems she won’t be leaving this room for a very, very long time)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the two are in therapy! Hey guys, hope you had an excellent week. This chapter wasn't supposed to be up yet, but I really rushed putting it out because I wanted to reach out to you as soon as possible. 
> 
> I'm from the Philippines, and the recent Taal volcano eruption really brought lives to a standstill for a lot of us. Thankfully, our city is pretty far from the volcano, but everything around us has been buried in ashfall, nonetheless. School is suspended, offices are closed, and people are cooped up at home because of how thick the ash is outside. I guess I'm saying this to you guys because I want a more global audience to be aware of what's happening, and hopefully spread the word so our people can receive the help they need.
> 
> I guess it's pretty weird to use fanfiction as a platform to get this message out there, but I know there are hundreds of people from all over the world who read this everyday, and it would be a missed opportunity not to use this story for good. If you have the money or resources to spare, there are a lot of foundations accepting donations. Just research about them online and you'll find dozens. Or if budget's a bit too tight at the moment, no worries. Just try to repost or share about this event on social media so more people will know. Rest assured, any type of help is appreciated and I am really, really grateful.
> 
> Anyway, I'm a bit down with everything that's happened, so I could really use a good pick-me-up. Be sure to comment your favorite line from this chapter and share whatever it is you wanna see in the upcoming parts of the story. Every little comment counts and brings me the best kind of excitement!
> 
> As always, thanks a lot for your support, and I love each and every one of you. Till next time <3


	12. Blasted Can of Worms

Linda believed in the power of selective intervention. Sure, she could give patients a guiding nudge here and there, but in the end, they had to achieve breakthroughs on their own. Therapy was a self-introspective journey, after all.

For the now-growing Morningstar family, however, she feared that the process was less of a journey and more of a morning rush traffic jam that left you stranded in your car for hours on end. _(Watching the two was fascinating at first, but by Lucifer’s sixth round of “Did you sleep well, darling? I hope you liked your breakfast. Should we head to the same place for lunch? Sabrina? Sabrina? Sabrina?”, the doctor had to step in before the girl’s eyes rolled permanently out of her head)._

“Okay, this is clearly getting us nowhere,” she sighed, raising a hand to stop Lucifer before he could get another unanswered question out of his mouth. From the corner of her eye, she could see Sabrina’s shoulders sag in relief _(What part of “I’m not talking to you” did her father not understand?)._ “I can’t help you unless you help me. I’m gonna need to grasp all of _this_ before I figure out what to do with the both of you.”

Linda turned back to the teenager who seemed more preoccupied with her cat than anything else _(the animal’s presence was more of a defense mechanism, the doctor now only realized, that gave the girl all the excuse she needed not to look her father in the eye)_. “Sabrina, would you mind stepping out into the hall with Maze? I just need to ask your dad a few questions.”

Sabrina didn’t really understand the need for therapy. Mortals had a habit of blowing their sensitivities out of proportion _(and her human side made her guilty of it once or twice),_ but witches would have laughed at the notion of spending hours upon hours working through something as mundane as _feelings._ When you had magic and immortality and the infernal energies of creation coursing through your very veins, emotions were an insignificant afterthought that weren’t worth the time of day.

_(Still, the doctor must have been doing something right if she managed to get the devil himself, with all his power and divinity, to come by every week without fail. Sabrina would be lying if she said she wasn’t the slightest bit curious on how well the whole thing worked)._

The young blond shrugged her shoulders and got up from the far end of the couch. “Sure.” She sent a pointed look towards her father _(still annoyingly oblivious to the fact that fancy croissants and forced conversations would not win her over, not until he’s realized just how much damage he’s made)_. He answered back with a grin and her gaze only sharpened. “It was getting stuffy in here, anyway.”

She walked swiftly out of the room with a begrudging Mazikeen trailing behind her, already wondering if antichrist-babysitting was gonna be a full-time thing. As soon as the pair was out of earshot, Linda calmly shut the door behind them before turning around with an exasperated look that the devil should have known all too well by then. 

“Two words.” She strode over to where he sat and waited impatiently, hands on her hips and face twisted into something of sheer disappointment _(really, two years of therapy and he never bothered to mention this one crucial detail)_. “Explain. Yourself.”

Lucifer blinked innocently up at her. “Well, what’s there to explain, doctor? It’s all very straightforward, isn’t it?”

“No, Lucifer,” she shook her head, eyes wide. “There is nothing straightforward about the devil showing up with a secret teenage daughter who apparently barbecues people alive. And frankly, I find it very alarming that you don’t see that.”

After the freakishly long evening he’s had, the last thing Lucifer wanted to do was recount sixteen years’ worth of fuck-ups on his part that the doctor would probably take worse than his initial devilish reveal _(“I left my infant daughter in the care of two satanic witches and a warlock under house arrest for trying to blow up the Vatican” was a can of worms he’d rather not open up just yet)._

Nevertheless, if he truly was in this for the long run _(and what a long run it’s sure to be, with both his and Sabrina’s angelic immortality)_ , then he supposed there was no sense in holding anything back. Linda needed to ask questions so that he would find the right answers, and tiresome as it was, there were worse things in the world _(and all of them he’d endure for his little girl)._

He sighed. “Very well. Which part of all this are you having trouble with?”

“Everything!” Linda exclaimed, dropping back into her chair. “I mean, where do I even begin? The thought of you even having a daughter to begin with is very hard to process.”

“So I’ve been told. Several times actually, by the detective.”

The doctor raised her brows in disbelief. “Chloe knows about Sabrina?”

“It wasn’t the most ideal circumstance, considering that she had my daughter holed up in interrogation. But yes, I had to tell the detective eventually.”

Now, Linda had two choices. She could either lose her mind over the disturbingly nonchalant way Lucifer handled the news that his _teenage daughter_ was essentially arrested, or take everything in with as much calmness as possible, knowing that juvenile delinquency was probably the most normal thing she’d be hearing the rest of the day. Familiar with how most Morningstar family dramas went, she settled on the latter, letting out a long breath.

“I’m assuming this has something to do with the whole hellfire incident you mentioned?”

Lucifer’s mouth broke out into a proud grin that really had no place in a conversation about possibly pyromanic children. “Let’s just say the mugger was the one who ended up getting robbed. Of his will to live, that is.” He chuckled, turning to the doctor in excitement. “Turns out she’s very good at punishing evil.”

 _(Apparently, Lucifer’s idea of good parenting was condoning his daughter’s infernal capability to torture mortals. She may not have looked the part, but Sabrina was one expensive suit and an ecstasy pill away from becoming her father)._ Linda leaned back against her seat, already regretting getting out of bed that particular morning. “Remind me again how the devil has a daughter? Unless, of course, there are other secret children you failed to mention. Or should I just expect them to show up to future therapy sessions?”

“Oh, trust me, doctor. One hellspawn is quite enough. The balance between heaven, earth, and hell is already skewed enough as it is with just one antichrist in the picture.”

If Linda’s eyes could bulge out any further, they’d be rolling around on the carpeted floor. “Are-are you saying,” she scrambled to her feet, pointing one manic finger towards the door. “I have the _antichrist_ in my waiting room, reading teen magazines and drinking vending machine coffee with a demon?”

“Two demons, actually. Her cat was bred in the bowels of hell.”

“As if that makes it any better!”

Lucifer sighed, holding up a hand to his head. _(This. This was the blasted can of worms he was trying to avoid. And they haven’t even gotten to the part of flesh-eating covens and goat-obsessed churches)._ “Honestly, you’re making a big deal out of nothing, doctor. If we’re lucky enough, she might not even grow into her full power until she’s a few centuries old. And even then, I doubt she’d want to destroy the world. She loves her mortal friends far too much to obliterate their great-great grandchildren.”

“That’s besides the point!” The therapist marched back to her seat and buried her face in her hands, muffling a well-deserved groan. _(God help her. The antichrist – His granddaughter, come to think of it - was a volatile teenager with daddy issues. And unless she played her therapeutic cards right, the apocalypse was probably one angsty meltdown away from sending them all to hell)._

Linda sucked in a long breath, counted to ten, and straightened her back as she tried to pull herself together. _(She could do this. Of course she could. She was the Morningstar family psychiatrist, dammit. Freud and Jung combined couldn’t deal with half the shit she’s seen. If anyone was gonna rationalize the devil’s erratic behavior and whatever godforsaken motivation he had to leave his potentially world-ending daughter behind, it was gonna be her)._

“Okay,” she said softly, closing her eyes. _(Breathe in, don’t think about the impending Armageddon, breathe out)._ “Okay.”

Lucifer frowned back at her. “ _Okay?_ What do you mean by okay?” A strange look passed over his face as a concerning thought came to mind. “Heavens, I finally broke you, didn’t I? Maze always said the day would come.”

Linda shook her head. “Nope, not broken. Just compartmentalizing all of this.” She shifted her gaze back to him, head finally clear and heart rate back to a clinical normal. Lucifer was slightly unsettled with how calm she seemed, as if he _actually did break her_ , but she was just doing an excellent job hiding all of it.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She looked at him expectantly. “Hit me.”

“As much as I find it weird that you’re taking all this too well, I don’t think punching you would solve any of our problems.” 

_(_ _Linda did not_ _map_ _out her day with the thought of strangling the devil, but if Lucifer couldn’t bottle up his insufferable ignorance even just for the next few minutes, it looked as if things were about to head in that general direction)._ “No, I meant-” She rubbed a hand down her face. “Let me rephrase myself. I am ready to hear whatever _outrageous_ explanation is behind you having a sixteen year old daughter.”

“That’s splendid, doctor.” Lucifer smiled back at her, toothy and self-assured as ever. “Now we’re making some progress. Should I start at the beginning, or-”

“No, no, no. Just the Cliffnotes version.” The devil shot her another odd look, and she promptly waved him away. “Trust me, I’m sure it’s a wonderful story full of plot twists and Lucifer-brand escapades that you would just love to recount in explicit detail, but right now, we’re losing daylight and I need to understand most of it before I bring Sabrina back in here.”

For the record, Lucifer did _not_ enjoy telling that particular story, considering he’s only told it thrice in a span of sixteen years _(once to Amenadiel, another to Maze, and just last night to Sabrina)._ Frankly, the whole narrative managed to take him from mad to sad faster than any depressant, and it was downright humiliating to admit that he’d been duped by a bearded warlock _(take away his youth and dress him up in ratty robes, and what was Edward Spellman, really, but a heinous version of Dumbledore?)._ Still, the devil took pride in telling stories exceptionally well, and he felt quite robbed now that Linda was asking for a summary, of all things.

Nevertheless, this day was about his daughter and helping her get better. He supposed the faster he got the doctor caught up, the sooner Sabrina would be back in the room and on track to emotional healing. Lucifer sighed out loud. “Fine. Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job.”

Linda hummed to herself. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Anyway,” he shot back, eyeing her dismissively _(The audacity of this woman. First, she waters down his theatrical flair for storytelling, and now she won’t even let him finish)._ “Long story short, I got the mortal wife of a satanic high priest pregnant. As a favor, of course. Then, let’s see, there was a plane crash, and a prophecy, and a pair of witches who took Sabrina in when her mum died. There’s also this whole thing about a cannibalistic coven, but I don’t want to bore you with the finer details.”

The doctor glared back at him. “I know what you’re doing, Lucifer. You’re purposely stringing together the vaguest narrative known to mankind just so I’ll ask you for the specifics and you can have your way in telling the story.”

Lucifer merely shrugged his shoulders in feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, doctor.”

 _(Linda was close, so damn close to strangling either him or herself at that point.)_ She narrowed her eyes at him even further and crossed her arms against her chest. _(Still, you don’t earn a career in psychology without playing a few mind games of your own)._ The doctor nodded her head and made a quiet humph from the back of her throat. “Either way, I think I got the gist of it. We’re done here.”

“But-but doctor!” The devil leaned forward in his seat, suddenly flustered. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about the flesh eating? Or perhaps the satanic church?”

“No, Lucifer, I think I’ve heard enough,” Linda said, getting up to hold the door open. “I’d like to talk to Sabrina now.”

Lucifer held up a finger, as if he wanted to say something more, but the therapist quickly shot him back a stern look and he got to his feet. Linda didn’t miss the way he scrunched his face at her as he straightened his suit jacket and marched out the hall. _(Who did she think she was? His stories were thrilling, epic, flawless. I’ve heard enough, my ass)._

She chuckled smugly as she returned to her seat, giving herself a metaphorical pat on the back. _(She wasn’t gonna kid herself. Lucifer got to her, and the need to know the rest of the story would probably keep her up for a solid week. But she’d fill out the rest of the blanks eventually. For now, it was all worth it just to know she got to him first)._

“Dr. Linda?” The rest of her self-celebration was cut short by a hesitant knock at the door. She turned her head to see Sabrina standing by the entrance of her office, demonic black cat walking in circles around her stocking-clad ankles. “You wanted to see me?”

The therapist knew that she was just a teenage girl and relatively harmless in her own right _(antichrist status, aside),_ but she couldn’t help the way her spine went stiffer and the hairs on the back of her arm stood straighter as she looked her in the eye. “Sabrina, yes, please come in.”

“You’re scared of me, doctor,” the young witch observed with an arch of her brow, watching Linda curiously as she took her place on the couch _(which she could now thankfully enjoy without Lucifer invading her personal space)._ Salem promptly jumped up on her lap and she brushed magic-worn fingers through his fur, though her gaze never left the woman across from her. She quirked her head to the side in genuine thought. “Why is that?”

“Well, I-I,” The doctor felt herself drawn to the girl, defenses down and vulnerabilities exposed in a way that was too familiar to be new. She felt her earlier horrors about the apocalypse being unearthed from their haphazardly-compartmentalized box and her mouth itching with the sudden urge to say them out loud. Realizing what the teenager was doing _(if her father played with desires, then she played with fears, and dear lord, was she alarmingly good at it),_ Linda shook her head, breaking the spell halfway through. Sabrina couldn’t say she was surprised _(two years working with the devil and the therapist was bound to learn a trick or two),_ but she found herself a bit disappointed, nonetheless.

Still slightly dazed, Linda tried to steer the conversation away to less frightening waters. “Where’s your dad?”

“Maze said she was hungry so they went to get a sandwich across the street,” the younger blond replied, stretching out her back on the sofa and staring boredly at the ceiling. _(With the amount of time it took for the doctor to talk to and eventually piss off her father, Sabrina managed to browse through all twelve magazines Linda had in her waiting room and make enough awkward conversation with Mazikeen for the demon to excuse herself to the bathroom and never come back. At that point, therapy was beginning to lose most of its allure and the girl had half a mind to sneak off to Lucifer’s expensive pastry place and stay there just long enough to worry him)._

Linda nodded her head. “Okay. Now that it’s just the two of us, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Let me just get my notepad-” She made a move to get up from her seat, but staggered back to the chair the moment Sabrina lazily twirled a finger and her journal came flying across the room.

The witch had a subtle smile as she lowered the bundle on to the doctor’s lap with a flick of the wrist, a pen hovering mid-air for her to reach soon after. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

Linda always knew that the Morningstar family came equipped with a specific skillset. They had their immortality, their invincibility, their inane penchant to attract trouble wherever they went…it was commonplace for both Lucifer and Amenadiel, and hell, even their crazy mother, too. But even those three had their limitations, and it often required them to use their feet _(maybe their gigantic angel wings once or twice)_ to cross the room and retrieve items with their hands like normal people. So for Sabrina to just go around summoning things at will, no one could really fault the doctor for leaving her mouth agape in concerned surprise.

“How did you-”

“Look, doctor. I’m gonna save us both a lot of trouble and tell you right now that I don’t think I’m the type for therapy.” Sabrina cut her off, still staring at the ceiling in thought as she talked aloud. “I don’t know what you’ve got my father doing here every week, but that’s his business, and it’s none of my concern. But I’ve _seen_ things and _felt_ things that I’m not sure any amount of science could fix. And honestly, you seem nice enough, but I don’t want to waste your time.”

The therapist studied the girl for a moment, the way she swung her legs back and forth over the couch’s edge, the absentminded way she drummed her fingers against the pillow _(Destroyer of worlds or not, in many ways, she was still a child. A child, who at the end of the day, still needed help)._ Linda’s gaze softened and she felt the last of her fears dissipate into nothingness. “Sabrina, I’ve put up with your father’s issues for a couple years now. You might want to cut me some slack. I think I must have done something right, haven’t I?”

At that, Sabrina pulled herself up a bit straighter yet continued to chew on her bottom lip, unsure. “I don’t know. I'm not like your other patients.”

“Try me.”

The girl was pretty sure that the doctor was in way over her head, but if things went south, she could probably just wipe her memory and escape back to her crappy motel with no one noticing. Still unconvinced that the therapist won’t run out of the room in shock following whatever she had to say, Sabrina shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m a teenage witch raised in a satanic coven by my two aunts who aren’t really my aunts at all, and my cousin who’s been under house arrest for seventy years for trying to kill the catholic pope. This past year alone, I’ve been sued by the dark church, forced into signing away my soul, and killed by two angels before I resurrected and burned them both alive. Not long after, this evil goat pretending to be my father came along and tried to marry me so I could rule hell by his side, but my warlock boyfriend stepped up and trapped him in his body so we could all be safe. Right now, I’m just here in Los Angeles to get my mind straight before I gather the necessary powers to open the infernal gates and get rid of him for good.”

Seconds passed as the therapist just sat there, blinking profusely.

Linda didn’t really know how to respond to all that, so she merely kept her lips sealed as her widened eyes took in the overwhelming amount of information. _(Sure, Lucifer had his episodes, but they usually came in weekly bursts of little celestial screw-ups. Divine problems in small doses were surprisingly easy to deal with, all things considered. A year’s worth of the antichrist’s issues poured out in go, however? Not so much)._

Sabrina sighed aloud as she got to her feet, ready to start the forgetting spell. _(It was a good thing Lilith gave back her powers. She couldn’t imagine having to sit through all of this until her father returned to the room – probably with half of Maze’s sandwich in hand – and had to save her all over again)._ She was almost to the doctor’s chair when Linda blew out a long breath, readjusted her glasses, and reached back for her pen and notepad.

The witch could only look on in wonder as the therapist turned to her with a determined glint in her eye. 

“Well, what are you doing? You better sit yourself back down, sweetheart. It seems we have our work cut out for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's having a good week! 
> 
> (SPOILER ALERT FOR CAOS SEASON 3)
> 
> I just finished the new season of Chilling Adventures the other weak, and can I just say, it really is...something. There were some things I loved (Prudence and Ambrose, the triple goddess, Aunt Hilda's engagement), and some things I didn't (The whole Green Man storyline, the time travel thing, the Oz-like depiction of hell). Still, it makes me slightly glad that this story is set pre-Season 3 so we can avoid the entirety of that stuff (both the good and bad) completely.
> 
> Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and all of Linda's reactions that came along with it. Don't worry, Lucifer will find out about Sabrina's screwed-up history soon enough. Meanwhile, is there anything else you'd like to see in the upcoming parts?
> 
> As always, hit the kudos, share your thoughts, and leave your comments down below. Till next time!


	13. Too Much Garden Beans

“Lucifer, you’re back.”

It wasn’t as though he planned on being back, make no mistake about it. Yes, granted, it _was_ Friday, and Fridays _(much like every day)_ usually meant boring detective work in the morning, and some outrageous party _(slash rave, slash orgy, slash something or other)_ in the evening. But somewhere down the line, fate _(or Father, it was most definitely Father)_ decided to throw his best-kept secret back at him in a fit of raging hellfire and black headbands, and suddenly, for Lucifer Morningstar, Fridays meant something more, something special. For all intents and purposes, Fridays now meant…Sabrina.

_(Sabrina, who was too sad for sixteen. Sabrina, who was too proud to look him in the eye but still stared at him wistfully when she thought he didn’t notice. Sabrina, who could destroy him in every way that mattered even if she didn’t know it just yet.)_

Lucifer jerked his head to the side, mouth pressed to a thin line. All the while, his fingers absently worked at the cuffs of his shirt, restlessly folding and unfolding till the crisp linen was peppered with more creases than when he began. “Yes, well, slight change of plans.”

The detective nodded her head, lips pursed ever so slightly. Once upon a time she might have called herself an actress, but it was a fantasy short-lived and for good reason as she stood browsing through her folders, feigning nonchalance that clearly wasn’t there. “I don’t suppose…a teenage daughter was in any of them?”

It was subtle yet probing, and with no more than an amused raise of his brow, Lucifer knew this was her way of collecting a debt once owed. _An explanation,_ he promised yesterday. Even free of hell, the devil was bound by many prisons, but the greatest one was his word. _(Maybe it was about time he stopped making promises)._

His fingers suddenly stilled and he hummed in thought. _(Pensive was the word for it, though Chloe didn’t find it such a right fit for her usually flippant partner)._ “It’s quite funny, come to think of it.” His eyes drew to the sleeves undone by his hands, turned them over once, turned them over twice, somehow expecting the mess to clean itself up if he looked away long enough. “Every plan I’ve made, I’ve told myself that I had her in mind. Now that they’re playing themselves out, it seems that she was never in any of them at all.”

“Lucifer-”

“Wouldn’t you know it, detective?” His lips pulled upwards into a smile; tight, stinging, humorless. If he hadn’t already emptied out his flask on the drive to the precinct, he might have washed it away with some hard liquor. “Perhaps I’ve been a liar, after all.”

When he returned to Linda’s office after Maze pulled him away for some breakfast, he opened the door too quickly, too callously _(damn the doctor and her faulty locks),_ and walked in on a sight that shouldn’t have hurt him so much but it did. Growing up, Amenadiel used a lot of words to describe his daughter. Strong, reckless, defiant. Yet walking back into that room, none of them seemed to fit the crying girl on the couch, face buried in defeat in her hands as her body shook and trembled much like the bottles she brought crashing down the night before.

It was a miracle that she didn’t catch him looking _(else she would have shut her mouth completely and never spoken a breath to him again),_ yet the doctor did, and she quickly pulled him out into the hall before Sabrina could take notice.

_(“Lucifer, I need you to leave.”_

_“But Sabrina, she’s-”_

_“She’s going to be okay. Just, go distract yourself for a while, and come back when I call. I’ll explain everything later.”)_

The LAPD wasn’t much of a distraction _(though, he supposed, no place was, considering that all the world’s alcohol, women, and reckless decisions couldn’t erase the guilt eating away at him with every passing second),_ but it was familiar and constant and _normal._ At times like this, when the world seemed to turn on its head _(and the strong, reckless, and defiant broke down crying on cheap sofas),_ he could do with a bit of normal.

Chloe sighed as she pulled Dan’s empty chair from his desk and sat across from her partner, currently slumped over her own seat in an unnerving state of disquieted silence. For someone who never seemed unsure a day of his life, worry was not a good look on him. Still, it seemed familiar, making sense in a way it shouldn’t have. It was the same look she saw on her ex-husband’s face when Trixie got called into the principal’s office, or when she, herself, would scrape her knees in her youth and John Decker, still dressed in his uniform’s deep blues, would run over and scoop her up from the ground.

If she ever doubted that Lucifer Morningstar was a father, then the unrest in his eyes and the unbridled tension in his jaw just then proved her wrong.

The detective shook her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe you’re a dad.” She rested her chin on the table while peering up at him, half-awestruck, half-bemused. “When did that happen?”

Lucifer knew she was just wondering aloud. _(She knew the answer, of course. She probably read Sabrina’s file last night more than a southern lady with her Bible),_ but he couldn’t help but wonder, himself. Biologically, yes, he became a father sixteen years ago. In all the ways that mattered, though, he wasn’t sure if he ever managed to become one even to this day. _(What did he do, after all, other than pass on blood and powers and an excessive pinch of impulsiveness? Even God did more for His clay-mold mortal children than the devil ever did for his only begotten daughter)._

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw the detective watching him with the same curiosity that must have kept her on edge since everything that happened last night. _(It couldn’t be helped, he supposed. Part of the reason why the detective was so good at her job was because she never ran out of questions)._ Still, he didn’t think he could answer any of them. Not now, at least, when he had questions of his own and his imagination ran away to places that scared him more than he would care to admit.

Before the detective could even word her next sentence together in her head, Lucifer was already well on his way to changing the topic completely. “So, anything exciting happened while I was gone?” He sat straighter, crossed his legs, tried giving his most charming smile. No matter how chipper the face he put on, though, his eyes didn’t light up the same and Chloe could see right through him. “Still waiting around for a good murder. Dad knows it’s been too long.”

Chloe paused for a moment, caught between calling him out and letting him be. _(Pi_ _ck a subject, any subject in the world, and Lucifer Morningstar would have something to say about it. But bring up his own child and suddenly he forgets how to speak)._ No other word needed to be said at the moment more than _“why,”_ but the detective fought against the syllables just begging to escape from her throat and decided to play along. “No, just the usual open and shut cases. Except…” She looked down at the folders on her lap, pretended to be busy, occupied, anything other than bothered by another one of her partner’s secrets. “Dan came in early this morning, though. Kept asking about the teenage arsonist from the park.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “It was hardly arson. There was no destruction of private property involved-” Chloe shot him a bewildered look and he actually had the decency to look contrite _(clearly another first in this two-day road show of madness that seemed to have no end),_ cutting himself short with a clear of his throat. “Sorry. So what did you tell him?”

The detective sighed aloud, finally putting down her folders _(as a prop, they were essentially pointless, anyway)_ to glance at him pointedly. “That I sent her home with her father.”

All at once, Lucifer was overcome with a sinking feeling, and he would’ve called it dread but he wasn’t quite sure if he’d ever felt it before. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of Sabrina. No, she could burn the whole world to the ground and she’d still be his greatest pride and joy. It was more of the fact that she had not one, but two detectives on her trail now, both cutthroat and unrelenting in their own right, who could follow her blood-stained path all the way back to New England and the unholy coven that took her in when he couldn’t.

_(The Greendale witches were always exceptionally good at hiding, that much was true, but the times were changing and their defenses against the witch trials of old did little to protect them now. And with one of their youngest members running fast and loose with her own powers out in public, it was only a matter of time before Sabrina drew the wrong kind of attention, and the Spellmans – who did him the greatest service for over sixteen years even if they didn’t know it – would be caught in the crosshairs)._

And it was all because he couldn’t keep a secret well enough.

“I’m assuming you also told him, then?” He looked down bitterly, worrying his bottom lip as he already half-expected the answer. “That said father is me?”

_(What was he hoping for, really? He was her husband, and her friend, and her partner long before he came into the picture. Of course she told him every-)_

“No.”

His eyes snapped to hers so fast that it made his head spin just the slightest bit, but seeing the plain earnestness on her face almost made it worth it. “You mean-”

The detective shook her head before he could even wrap his mind around the thought. “I didn’t tell him anything.” Slowly, she reached for his hand across the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. _(It didn’t pull on his heartstrings anymore, not the way it used to, but it was a comfort he didn’t know he needed all the same)._ She blew out a breath and leveled her voice with a certain gentleness before softly speaking her next words. “Look, Lucifer. I get that there are some parts of your life that you’re not ready to talk about yet, and I respect that. I won’t push you into anything you don’t want to do. But I just-I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to keep secrets from me.”

He grinned back at her, and subtle as it was, at least it didn’t seem so forced anymore. “I know.”

It would take some time, but one day he would tell her everything. He would tell her about Edward and his trickery, Diana and her gentleness, Sabrina and her smile that lit up the world more than any star he hung in the heavens. Maybe she wouldn’t understand most of it _(would probably accuse him of talking in metaphors, most likely),_ but at least she would understand _him_ , and that was really all that mattered, wasn’t it?

“Turns out you’ve been a parent way longer than I’ve been, but if you ever need any help…”

Lucifer chuckled lightly and squeezed her hand back before letting it go. “I’ll know just who to call.”

At the moment, though he would never admit it out loud, he was actually grateful to his Father. For whatever schemes and manipulations He had in mind when He created Chloe Decker, His son ended up with a friend. Now that could very well have been just another step in His grand plan to torment Lucifer, but right then, he found that he couldn't bring himself to care. He had other things to worry about, and the hand he was given to hold was the least of his complaints.

Almost as if on cue, Lucifer's phone began vibrating in his pocket, and he swiftly took it out to glance at the screen. “Speaking of calls,” he frowned at the words written in big white font _(he played it off like it was nothing, but the detective clearly heard his sharp intake of breath at Dr. Linda’s name)._ “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to take this.”

Chloe gestured for him to go ahead and swiveled her chair back to her own desk the moment Lucifer got up to walk away. _(If he was going to talk through his issues with anyone, it might as well have been his therapist. The detective knew that her partner may have seemed chaotically lost at times, but he always tried to take steps in the right direction, and she could never fault him for that)._

The moment he was a reasonable distance away _(almost ironically, he somehow wandered back into the interrogation room where it all began),_ he held the phone up to his ear, heart drumming frantically against his chest all the while. “Hello? Doctor? How did it go? How’s Sabrina?”

Linda had to hum in thought before she could answer, and if she had dragged on a second longer, Lucifer would have broken out his wings and flown over early L.A traffic all the way to her office, mortal onlookers be damned. “Sabrina’s doing fine…all things considered. Maze took her back to the pastry shop she seemed to love so much.”

“That’s good.” He nodded to himself. _(Even as a child, the girl appeared to rest on the skinnier side, and her father had a strange inkling that the Spellmans – Hilda, in particular - must have been feeding her too much garden beans)._ From her tone of voice, though, Lucifer felt as though there was something the doctor was not telling him, and the both of them seemed to dance between a fine line that couldn’t be crossed over a phone call alone.

He heard Linda sigh on the other end of the line, and just then, he knew it was over. Nothing pleasant was bound to come from this conversation, and deep inside, he braced himself for the worst. _(It couldn’t have been nice, after all, whatever it was that broke his little girl)._

“Lucifer, I think you should just head over here. The things I have to say,” the doctor smacked her lips together and he could just imagine her shaking her head. “They’re the type I’d rather say to you in person.”

Lucifer swallowed, thick and heavy, although at that point, whatever else he had to say had already turned to ashes in his mouth. “I see.”

“Are you sure you're oka-”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Before he could even drop the call, the phone was all but trampled under his feet as he went dashing out the door. When the detective came looking for him a few minutes later, she could do nothing more than shake her head at the cracked device on the interrogation room floor and hope to God _(or his father, apparently)_ that wherever her partner was, he knew what he was doing.

* * *

He arrived at the clinic earlier than the doctor anticipated _(how he managed to evade the freeway’s bottleneck in a little over five minutes was beyond her),_ and she nearly jumped out of her seat when he burst into the office with no warning _(she had only meant to replace the door locks before, but it seemed even the hinges wouldn’t stay intact for much longer, either)._

“Let’s make this quick, doctor. Who do I have to skin alive and feed to the vultures?”

From his demeanor alone, Linda could tell he was on edge, leagues away from the Lucifer Morningstar who bribed his way into an appointment at six in the morning. _(It didn’t help that his eyes were practically ablaze, and his whitened knuckles were more or less poised to punch and rip and tear apart)._ A chill ran down her spine at the thought that he could probably make good on his threat with no more than his bare hands.

With a frown, the doctor glanced back at her notes, scribbled with nearly unintelligible lines as she tried to keep up with Sabrina’s stories. _(Unlike her father, she had no affinity for talking in circles. Even as her voice broke and her eyes watered halfway through, she kept on going, determined to recount everything as she had promised. It meant quite a lot of disturbing details and disturbing people, but Linda had already guessed early on that this certain princess’s life was not the type to be told in fairytales)._

She blew out a low breath at all the names she scratched in bold letters along the margins. “Quite a lot of people, it would seem.”

At that, Lucifer closed his eyes and muttered something darkly under his breath. One part of Linda feared that he would explode in rage right then and there, but the other part chose to believe in the devil’s humanity, the same one that gave him patience and compassion and sensibilities. _(She didn’t know how long said humanity would hold, the moment he found out just what his daughter had to live through this past year, but she had no other option but to rely on it, all the same)._

“I’m not even supposed to be telling you all this, doctor-patient confidentiality considered,” she admitted, steepling her fingers as she looked at him seriously. “But since Sabrina _is_ a minor, I’m ethically-obligated to inform her parent of any potentially-dangerous activities for her own protection. Although, I have to admit, your daughter has managed to protect herself astoundingly well up to this point.”

For a moment, Lucifer’s growing anger found a reprieve and his eyes crinkled just the slightest bit. _(Still strong, reckless, and defiant, it turned out)._ “She has?”

The doctor smiled back, nodding her head. “I’ve known her barely four hours and she might already be one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. The whole black magic and hellfire thing’s not too shabby, either.”

“Yes, well, she got it from me.”

Linda looked at him softly; his worry, his concern, his barely-restrained pride. _(He tried so hard to hide it, but he was a father through and through. Sabrina was lucky to have him, even if she refused to accept it yet)._ “Yeah, I figured.”

His amusement left as quickly as it came, however, and not two seconds later, his forehead was creased, and he was back to thumbing the cuffs of his shirt. “It must have been terrible, though, if it made her cry.” His eyes shifted to her uneasily and the doctor could almost feel the restlessness coming off him in waves. “I haven’t seen her cry since she was born.”

( _“You've been gone sixteen years, what did you expect?” the doctor wanted to bite back, but she figured it was still a wound too fresh to pick at.)_

“Well, a few things have happened since then.” She said instead, chin tilted resolutely as she flipped back through her notes. “And God, half of these things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

Lucifer grew quiet then, and Linda wasn’t sure if it was guilt that silenced him, or if he had merely run out of things to say. _(Looking back, it was probably a bit of both, although he wouldn’t be the first to admit it out loud)._

Before she could spill out everything, though, she stopped herself ( _Where would she even begin? The weird, cultish baptism that started it all? Or maybe even before that, when Sabrina’s mother and supposed father were left for dead and she was forced to grow up in the presence of flesh-eating witches and freshly-deceased bodies inside their mortuary home?)_ and gave him a hardened stare. “You should know that I won’t be telling you everything. Most of this…it has to come from her. When she’s ready, when she _trusts you,_ she’ll tell you herself.”

Lucifer appreciated what the doctor was trying to do, he really did, but sometimes he worried that she had too much hope in people. And it wasn’t always necessarily bad, per se, but when it got in the way of her perspective – especially when it came to him and just how far he’d gone – at the back of his mind, he feared she’d forgotten that she was dealing with supernatural entities who could literally bend the world to their will, miles away from her usual depressed divorcees and people who shoplifted for fun.

“After I left her? Stayed away long enough for all this to happen?” He let out a faint laugh, but there was no humor left in the sound. “I wonder when that could be?”

“Sooner than you think,” the doctor countered. “Sabrina has trust issues, yes, and it won’t be easy to relearn that same kind of belief in people. But part of why she struggled so hard in the past is because she kept everything bottled up and tried to deal with it herself. She doesn’t have to do that now, though, because she has me, and you, and maybe even Maze! The moment she realizes this, I’m telling you, it will all come much easier. You just need to have a little faith in the process.”

Lucifer’s face soured and he huffed out a tired breath. “Forgive me, doctor, but it seems a bit too much to ask the devil to believe in faith.”

“Then believe in _me._ You thought I could help you, that’s why you came to me this morning, right?”

( _This morning already felt like a lifetime ago at that point, but for someone who’d lived through millennia, he couldn’t say his memory was failing him just yet)._ “Well, yes,” he conceded.

Linda nodded her head once and rifled through the open journal on her lap. “Good. Now you better listen up, because I’ve got a long list of names here, and I wouldn’t want them walking around with their skin intact after what they did.”

Lucifer leaned in closer to peek at her notes, and she snapped it shut before he could read anything he wasn’t ready for. _(More than half of Sabrina’s stories made her shudder, and she knew it wasn’t her place to tell them out loud. Most of them, though, the girl already managed to resolve for herself – the demons, the plague kings, the witch sisters who tried to kill her but somehow ended up as her friends. It was the things she yet to fix, however, that the therapist wanted to help with, preferably with the aid of her devilish father who had an unmatched taste for revenge)._

Even with her journal sealed to a close, the doctor knew all those awful names by heart now. How couldn’t she, after she heard them spat out in animosity and tears as she watched the teenage antichrist fall apart on her couch? And one by one, she would see them undone _(the way they undid that poor girl's life even if they didn't know it)_ , starting with perhaps the most wretched of them all.

She stared pointedly back at Lucifer. “What do you know about Faustus Blackwood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all my lovely readers, and thanks for sticking around! I know it's been a while since my last update, but things have not been good lately (they cancelled my high school graduation because of the virus) and it's been really hard trying to find the energy to write. With that being said, I think this chapter turned out pretty good, and I hope you think so, too.
> 
> I hope everyone's doing well and keeping safe in light of this recent pandemic. I know it's terrifying at worst and downright shitty at best, but 2020 has practically hit rock bottom at this point, and there's nowhere left to go but up. All our doctors and healthworkers are really out there trying to make a difference, and I have complete confidence that they'll find a solution in no time. As Linda said, we just need to have a little faith in the process <3
> 
> Anyway, if you've got any headcanons set in this story's universe, be sure to comment them down below. I've been in dire need of inspiration for a while, and you never know if your HCs might just make it into this story's canon ;) Sound off in the comment section (don't worry, I'm trying to reply to as many of you guys as possible), and share whatever else you liked about the chapter so far.
> 
> As always, all the love, and I'll see you in about a week! (Hopefully. My muse is just all over the place these days).
> 
> Till next time <3


	14. Burn Some Incense

After her little monologue at Dr. Linda’s, Sabrina fully expected that she would spend the rest of the day curled up in her stain-ridden bed back at the motel, half-relieved at finally venting out her frustrations, and half-worried at sharing maybe a bit too much. _(For someone raised to hide her magic in secrecy, it was troubling just how easily she could talk about it to a stranger, a mortal one, no less. Still, the doctor was calm and kind and impossibly understanding. Sabrina didn’t think she spent her spare time – if she even had any, between juggling the devil and the antichrist – hunting down covens)._

Instead, the afternoon brought both her and Maze to a table at Jean Claude’s, the classy French café that’s overtaken her mind since breakfast _(she didn’t realize how classy it was until both her and her pair of demons arrived to a busy lunch crowd and the bounty hunter had to flash Lucifer’s black card just so they could be seated)._ Despite the steady hum of lively chatter around them, the moment carried with it a surprising peace as Sabrina sipped quietly at her pumpkin soup _(rich and creamy, yet short of love and a few enchanted herbs to ever compare to Hilda’s)_ and Mazikeen sliced aggressively at her ribeye steak, Salem pawing playfully all the while at the soft sunlight filtering in through the windows _(his mistress tried slipping him a few breadsticks under the table, but the fussy cat would only ever have his favorite canned tuna or nothing at all)._

It might have seemed like the peace would have carried on forever _(not that Sabrina was particularly averse to it. She would have sat on that vintage French dining chair and listened to the gentle violin notes that flitted through the air for hours upon hours if she could),_ but Maze was the first to break the silence with a lazy wave of her fork.

“So,” the demon began, tipping back a gulp of champagne to wash down whatever food was left in her mouth. “What did you think about that first therapy session?”

Sabrina wasn’t sure if the woman was actually interested or just trying to fill a desperate need for small talk _(their earlier car ride definitely pulled her in favor of the latter),_ but she decided to humor her all the same. She couldn’t help it; she was in a good mood. Maybe an emotional breakdown was all she needed to release some tightly-wound tension. Her next words came out surprisingly easy as she stirred absentmindedly at her food. “I didn’t think I could ever admit it out loud, but I actually liked it. I feel…lighter somehow. Like a weight’s been lifted off me.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Maze frowned back. _(She always thought humans loved things that weighed them down. Like spouses and children and big houses with mortgages that still overtook their minds even as they were being tortured in hell)._

The girl nodded her head with arched brows before bringing another spoonful to her lips. “It’s about as good as it gets when you’ve been lugging around the world as long as I have.”

“Sixteen years doesn’t seem that long.”

Sabrina scrunched her nose thoughtfully. “One would think so, wouldn’t they?”

Mazikeen must have been content with her answer, since she mulled over the words with no more than a shrug of her shoulders and left the conversation at that. Sabrina was silently grateful for it. The doctor’s appointment might have put her at the slightest ease, but she wasn’t ready for anyone to start prodding into her monsters again too soon.

As the demon’s focus shifted back to murdering the little meat cutlets on her plate a second time around, Sabrina had her empty soup bowl taken away and asked for a serving of vegetable pie. _(It would still probably fall short of Hilda’s, but she would take every chance she could to taste the Spellman kitchen again. It was ironic, in a way. She was starting to grow homesick for a home that she was apparently already sick of)._

Before the witch’s thoughts could wander back to traitorous places that honestly would have put all her recent emotional progress to waste, the bounty hunter stepped in with another mouth-half-full attempt at conversation that tore Sabrina’s attention away from memories of the Spellman house _(its sprawling green gardens, its cozy, time-worn furniture, its dated safety wards that did little to keep out murderous angels no matter how tightly she bound the door)_ and towards the demon across from her who was already gesturing to the waitstaff for another bottle of alcohol.

“How long are you in L.A. for, anyway?” She asked, trying to sound like it was an offhand question, though Sabrina had a feeling Lucifer set her up to it. She had half a mind not to answer _(just purely out of spite)_ , but in the end, she supposed there was no harm in being honest. Her father and his right-hand demon could have her whole travel itinerary if they wanted and they still couldn’t stop her from boarding a plane back to Greendale at the end of the week.

“Another six days, then it’s back home for me.” The girl replied with a cheery smile, every inch the excited teenager on her first trip alone. Her tone, however, held something else. A hidden edge that the demon almost missed, had the witchling not said it with a pointed look and slightly bared teeth. _(“Home and only home,” it seemed to add. “You can’t keep me here any longer than that.”)_

Maze stabbed another piece of meat with her fork and chewed on it slowly, narrowing her eyes at the little girl who was still evidently trying to figure out how to push her over the edge. _(She wasn’t mad. She respected it, somehow. Anyone who could look a demon in the eye and threaten them without a second thought was pretty alright in her book)._

“Let me guess. Finally grew out of that small town?”

“No.” Sabrina picked up her knife and started slicing into the pie the moment it was set down in front of her. “Greendale grew even bigger, if you can believe it. I used to think I knew the place so well that it couldn’t surprise me anymore. Now I’m not so sure.”

The demon scoffed. “And you think New England can surprise you, but Los Angeles won’t?”

Sabrina unscrewed Maze’s new champagne bottle and poured herself a glass _(she was almost convinced that the bounty hunter would stop her, but the other woman only raised a brow and said nothing more)._ She smirked wickedly before taking a generous first sip. “Not to be smug, but I think I’m the one who’s gonna be doing all the surprising around here.”

Mazikeen couldn’t help the smile that crept up on her face. _(The young witch was so sure of herself that she was all but preening as she sat across from the demon, posture confident and chest slightly puffed out in pride. She was so convinced of her hell-raising abilities that Maze was almost inclined to believe her. Still, it did nothing to change the fact that the bounty hunter thought she looked like an adorably haughty little bird)._

“You know when you talk like that, you sound a lot like someone I know.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes as she swirled the champagne flute in her hand. “You’re gonna say Lucifer again, aren’t you?”

Maze sighed out loud. _(This whole back-and-forth between the devil and his daughter was getting tiring to watch, and she was only pulled into their little reunion loop this morning, come to think of it. If a few hours already drove her to the brink of insanity, she couldn’t imagine what the rest of the week had in store)._

“You’re both stubborn forces of hell who like their whiskey neat and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Who else am I supposed to say?” She nudged her chin out towards the girl who was now picking at the bell peppers on her plate with a conflicted look. “You’re more alike than you think. You know, you might actually like him if you just gave him a chance.”

“Linda thinks so, too,” the witch mumbled back, chewing on her bottom lip. _(She knew that the doctor was friends with her father. Of course she was going to vouch for him. Personal ties aside, though, she made the girl feel safe and validated and heard. Linda said she could feel like that every day of her life if only she learned to let the right people in. Now, Lucifer was a far cry from the right person, but then again, she didn’t really know that for sure, did she?)_

The demon smacked her lips together. “Look, you’re probably gonna say no, and you’re allowed to, but at least try to hear me out.” She topped up her drink and downed half of it in one gulp _(for courage, Maze liked to think, but she knew she was just kidding herself. Spending millennia in hell was reason enough to drink every damn day)._ “Your dad wants you to move into the penthouse while you’re here in California.”

“Oh.”

It all boiled down to this, didn’t it? The hellfire-burning question of whether or not she was willing to give Lucifer the chance he’s been hoping for. At the back of her mind, Sabrina knew her father was expecting too much. If he wanted to prove himself, it made more sense if he asked for an afternoon together, or maybe tried for another joint therapy session with Linda. But to essentially ask her to live with someone she’s only known for a day? Even more, in an apartment that she was pretty sure she already left in shambles the previous night?

It was ridiculous.

_(Maybe so much that she had no other choice but to say yes)._

She nodded her head slowly as she swallowed the last bite of vegetable pie. “Okay.” _(Even as she was agreeing to it, she couldn’t wrap her mind around the sheer impulsiveness of her answer. Satan, maybe Ambrose was right. She had a bad habit of rushing into things)._ “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Maze asked, confused. _(She hadn’t even made her case yet. Granted, her argument mostly involved copious amounts of alcohol from the penthouse’s open bar and the endless nightly parties at Lux, but what else were angel-witch kids into, anyway?)_

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. “Sure, why not? What better way to experience L.A. than at the heart of its nightlife? Besides, I said I wanted a change from the slow pace in Greendale. Living on top of a nightclub should do the trick.”

 _(No offense to the antichrist, but she didn’t seem the type to go traipsing off into some spontaneous hedonism just for the hell of it. Maze saw how those witch sisters raised her. She was used to home-cooked meals and warm, fluffy sweaters hand-knitted by the chubby one. The bounty hunter was pretty sure Sabrina was in no rush to change any of it, at all)._ The demon narrowed her eyes even further. “And you’re sure that’s it? No other reason than some healthy teenage rebellion?”

“Well,” the girl leaned back against her seat and nursed the half-filled flute in her hands. “That and the fact that I want to give Lucifer the benefit of the doubt. Who knows, this might turn out better than either of us expected. If not, at least I can say I’ve tried. Maybe by then, everyone will stop bugging me to give the devil a chance.”

Maze mulled it over with pursed lips. _(Lucifer told her to accept Sabrina’s answer only if she wanted it. Free will was still a touchy subject with the Morningstars, after all. Now, she wasn’t entirely sure if ‘I’m agreeing to this just to get people off my back’ was technically the same thing as ‘wanting it,’ but it was good enough, she guessed)._

“Not quite the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but sure.” She clinked her glass against Sabrina’s and gave her another well-meant _(yet still borderline menacing)_ smile. “I’ll take it.”

Sabrina expected she’d spend the rest of the afternoon curled up in her stain-ridden bed back at the motel, half-relieved at finally venting out her frustrations, and half-worried at sharing maybe a bit too much. Somehow, she wound up at an upscale restaurant, instead, with one demon batting away breadsticks under the table, and another trying to get free cake even though she could afford the whole menu ten times over with the Amex card Lucifer lent her. _(While she was off in the bathroom, Maze managed to convince the waiters to sing her a surprise happy birthday, though the witch quickly shut them down before they could even get to the first verse. She wasn’t too keen on birthdays anymore, not after her disastrous sixteenth)._

When the afternoon reached its end, the antichrist went home _(to a motel room that she soon packed up and stripped bare of all glamour spells)_ with a take-out box of not-really-birthday cake and new living arrangements that she still couldn’t believe she agreed to. If Mazikeen’s next attempt at car conversations on the way to Lux didn’t bother her as much anymore, or if she started singing along a bit too brightly when Magic Eyes came on the radio, she just chalked it up to one too many glasses of champagne.

_(Or maybe, just maybe, some unexpected plans were exactly what she needed)._

* * *

It may have taken some time smuggling a fussy cat and a beat-up looking suitcase through Lux’s early evening crowd, but Maze got the job done. Not long after leaning lazily against the elevator railings as the beginning hints of exhaustion crept up on her _(Babysitting the witchling was no joke. If she thought getting her to speak was tiring, then getting her to shut up once she started babbling about horror movies was an entirely new level of torture)_ , the doors slid open to a quiet, empty penthouse. Instantly, she was put on the slightest edge.

“Lucifer?” The demon called out tentatively, stepping out with her butterfly knife clutched loosely in hand. _(His corvette was parked out front, and there was no trace of him at the club. It didn’t make sense for him to be anywhere else)._ She did a brisk sweep of the apartment before shifting her gaze back to Sabrina who was still standing timidly by the entrance. “There’s no one here.”

The teenager frowned back. “Well, where do you think he is?” _(She wasn’t expecting a welcome party by any stretch of the imagination, but he could have at least had the decency to actually be there when she arrived)._ She put down her bag with an echoing thud, and Salem swiftly jumped out of her arms as she crossed them against her chest.

“I think I might have an idea.” Maze pocketed the knife with a sigh and began walking back to the elevator. Between the basement and the top floor, this building had an excessive number of rooms, all of which Lucifer could have easily run off to. “In the meantime, stay here till I get back and try not to destroy anything. It was a pain in the ass finding replacements for those damn Sumerian walls.”

Sabrina scanned the place with a curious look _(by some miracle, it looked brand new, as if she never stepped foot in it at all)._ “What am I even supposed to do around here?”

“Get settled in. Put up protective wards. Burn some incense. I don’t know.” Maze said just before the doors drew to a close. “For Hell’s sake, just don’t make a mess.”

Her descent to the bottom floor was relatively quick, and by the time her eyes adjusted to the dingy fluorescent lights, she could already see Lucifer’s suited figure hunched over a dusty table. Unlike the rest of the rooms that were regularly visited by cleaning crews in the building, the bottom floor was closed off for reasons only known to the demon and the devil. Everything they brought with them from hell, they kept here, from Maze’s flame-forged weapons to Lucifer’s towering pile of Pentecostal coins. If it meant the place was slowly falling into a decaying state of cobwebs and broken bulbs, neither of them paid it much thought. They never had too many reasons to go down here, anyway.

“Maze.” Lucifer, suddenly disturbed, looked up and saw her hovering by the door. “What are you doing here?”

The demon hummed as she walked over, hands on her hips as she looked through the torture devices he had laid out in front of him. She took note of the medieval thumbscrews and choke pears with an arched brow _(they haven’t used those in a few good centuries)._

“The princess smells like sulphur.” She mused, running a finger over the ornate blades and pointed metal. “The first time I got near enough, I could think of nothing but hell. Figured you’d thought the same.”

Lucifer sighed as he haphazardly stuffed the weapons inside a discreet black duffel bag. “Well, she did admit to opening the gates and taking a peek inside. The scent must have rubbed off. Which reminds me, she should really have a potion brewed for that.”

_(Maze didn’t know why he picked now, of all times, to busy himself for whatever reason at the storage room, and frankly, she didn’t have the energy to guess. All she knew was that she left a very volatile teenager with an annoyingly frisky cat inside a freshly-renovated apartment, and if she had to contact a team of underground interior designers and contractors again at four in the morning, she was going to be very pissed)._

“She’s waiting for you upstairs. I don’t know what the fuck you’re still doing down here.”

That caught his attention. Lucifer’s hands stilled halfway and his packing was all but forgotten as his eyes drifted to Maze in disbelief. “You didn’t tie her up and drag her here against her will, did you?”

“Didn’t have to. She said ‘yes’ alarmingly fast.”

Lucifer furrowed his brows in deep thought. “Now, that’s unexpected.” His focus shifted back to the items on the table, and as if remembering the very reason he was down here _(whatever in the world it was),_ started zipping up the luggage in a more determined pace. “Not that I’m complaining. I think it’s splendid that she’s back.”

Mazikeen tapped her foot impatiently against the floor as she crossed her arms at him with a sour expression. “Doesn’t seem like it. You’re sure taking your sweet time getting your ass out of here.” She gestured harshly at the instruments on the table. “What’s with that bag, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re choosing now to take a trip to hell, because this room is chock-full of demonic blades and I am not afraid to use any of them on you.”

_(If packing up his things and flying back down to the pit was his knee-jerk response to facing fatherhood, then he had another thing coming. The bounty hunter heard that the witchling had an affinity for hellfire. At the back of her mind, she wondered if the girl would be open to the idea of using it on her dad)._

The devil scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. I’m not going anywhere.” He hauled the weapon-filled duffel off the table and dropped it into her arms, dusting off his hands once she had it in her grip. He gave her a pointed glance. “Can’t say the same for you, though.”

Maze shifted the weight of the load onto one shoulder and gave him an exasperated look. “Where are you shipping me off to now? You wouldn’t even let me catch a break after picking up after your daughter and her stupid cat all day.”

Lucifer raised a brow at her as he straightened his jacket and began walking back to the elevator. “You’ve been complaining lately about your bounties, haven’t you? Saying that they’re no fun and you’re not even allowed to hurt them that much?”

She hummed back in agreement, matching his pace with long strides. “They just see my knives and immediately start begging for their lives. For hell’s sake, the last thing I bruised was a fucking apple at the supermarket.”

“Well, what if I told you that you’ll be hunting down a man that you can bruise and scratch and flay all you want? What’s more, he’ll probably even fight back. Been a while since you’ve had a fighter, haven’t you?”

The demon turned to him with flinty eyes, pondering the thought. _(Screamers and criers, she’d had by the dozen. Fighters, though? They were a rare breed she wouldn’t mind tearing apart just yet)._ She nudged her chin out at him. “What’s so special about this one?”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened and he hardened his jaw as he stared straight ahead. Maze didn’t miss the way his nails dug ever so slightly into his palm as he curled a fist at his side. “This one?” His lips pulled back into a snarl that held more malice than anything she's seen in a while. “This one hurt my Sabrina.”

The elevator doors slid open at the penthouse and he stepped out with a chilling heaviness to his step and a determined thirst for revenge that his right-hand demon knew all too well. She trailed after him in growing anticipation, just waiting for the final whip, the final crack, that would give her a glimpse of the glorious punisher he used to be. _(How she missed him, the one that wasn’t softened and sanded by the humans in Los Angeles)._

He looked back at her with barely-held venom in his gaze. “And as you already know, Mazikeen, there will be hell to pay.”

 _(Maze could almost feel it. The scarred skin, the blood dripping down her fingers. It’s been a while since she was reminded of home)._ She smirked in delight.

“So there will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got any headcanons for this AU? Make sure to share them down below!
> 
> We are now nearing our third week of quarantine, and I just hope that everyone's doing well. I know that no matter where you are in the globe, everyone's affected by this pandemic, and the best thing we can do right now is stay at home, practice social distancing, and pray for the worst to be over. In the meantime, I hope these little updates of mine, short as they are, will be able to bring you some semblance of joy and normality in these otherwise troubling times.
> 
> As always, subscribe, kudos, and don't hesitate to leave a comment! Your feedback is such a huge help and I absolutely adore hearing your thoughts and the other things you're looking forward to in this story.
> 
> Sending love and positive thoughts <3 Till next time!


	15. Good Night, Sabrina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @keeping-up-with-the-morningstars for exclusive story updates and CAOS edits!

“Sabrina.”

Lucifer never meant for it to sound a little shaky, a little breathless, but after hearing everything the doctor had to say about the living nightmare his daughter endured at the hands of that abhorrent high priest, the sight of her curled up in a chair with a book in her hands, mundane as it seemed, was all it took to remind him that she was safe, she was strong, she was _here._ And at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.

_(She looked so young, too, with her knees tucked under her as she sat, and lips pursed in concentration as her eyes scanned fervently over the pages. If it weren’t for the demonic symbols on the leather-bound cover or the burn marks on the edges of her sleeves, he could almost pretend that time hadn’t passed them by; that the only horror his child had ever seen came from TV screens, that she grew up playing with dolls instead of fire, that he was actually there to see all of it happen._

_Pretending was too close to lying, though, and he refused to take the chance. As long as she was okay – whatever that word actually meant – almost was good enough for him.)_

Sabrina looked up at the sound of his voice and shut the book to a close. “Lucifer,” she smiled tightly, voice a bit too clipped and warmth a bit too hollow. _(She said she would give him a chance, not outright forgive him, after all)._ Salem jumped from her lap when she stood from the chair, ancient grimoire still clutched tightly in hand. “I went through your library. I hope you don’t mind. You’ve got a better collection than the Academy does.”

 _(Lucifer tried not to think about how she still called him by name instead of “Dad”. He supposed it was still a far way off, but maybe one day, they’d get to it. At least she was talking to him again)._ “Nonsense. Read as much as you want. A little knowledge never hurt anyone.” He grinned back at her. “Take it from the serpent of Eden.”

The girl scrunched her brows. “Not really the best example considering humanity fell right after that whole apple thing, but okay.”

Maze stifled a laugh from where she stood behind her boss and walked over to the sofa, black duffel bag still weighing heavy on the crook of her elbow. She felt the hard gaze of both father and daughter on her _(partly because they forgot she was there, partly because she purposely kept herself hidden)_ as she sank down on the leather settee. “Don’t mind me,” she said, diverted, crossing her legs carelessly on top of the coffee table. “I’ve waited sixteen years for this trademark Morningstar banter. Might as well enjoy it with front row seats.”

The devil scoffed before swatting her boots away from the glass _(Really, he just had the bulk of his furniture replaced. She could have at least waited a few days before leaving scuff marks on every visible surface)._ “Well, sorry to ruin the show, but don’t you have somewhere else to be, Mazikeen?”

If “somewhere” meant chasing after a power-tripping Satanic priest who made the stupid decision of going against the antichrist, then sure, the bounty hunter was probably better off packing her suitcase instead of lounging lazily at the penthouse. As much as she was excited to tear the scumbag apart limb from limb, though, she wasn’t all too eager to abandon the two _not-so-angelic_ angels without seeing some of that head-biting snark that was sure to drive both of them crazy before the week ended. Unfortunately, where the devil was involved, unless she was straddling the fine line between bloodthirsty torturer and glorified babysitter, she apparently had better things to do.

She rolled her eyes before getting to her feet _(she almost stuck out her tongue, too, but that would’ve been a bit much, even for her)._ “Fine, whatever.” She hitched the duffel bag onto her shoulder _(a little goodie bag from hell, she liked to think. If Sabrina had spent her birthdays with them at the pit, this was probably the sort of thing the demon would’ve given away together with balloons and cake)_ and pushed past Lucifer back to the doors.

The teenager frowned at the bounty hunter’s retreating figure and caught up just as she was pressing annoyedly at the buttons. “Wait, you’re leaving already?” She frowned, lower lip pouting out just slightly in a move that probably worked all too well on her aunts and cousin back home, but only made the demon raise a brow in amusement.

“Yeah, I just need to straighten some things out with my day job,” Maze replied smoothly, though her eyes wandered pointedly at Lucifer who was watching the whole exchange from the comfort of his bar stool. He raised a glass to her and the woman only scowled. She snapped her gaze back to Sabrina with a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but only came out looking more pinched than usual. “But don’t worry too much, princess, I’ll try to get back before you leave.”

Sabrina wasn’t too keen on letting her father know _(the last thing she needed was for him to get all smug, seeing as he introduced the two in the first place),_ but she was actually starting to enjoy the bounty hunter’s company. Yes, there was a slight reservation considering that Maze was working for Lucifer _(as all demons do, though the bond, dare she say the “friendship”, between them both seemed to extend beyond typical infernal servitude),_ but she could easily look past that; the woman’s earnest concern, poorly masked behind a veil of irritation, reminded her a lot of Harvey, Roz, and Theo who still begrudgingly looked out for her despite her seemingly endless list of shortcomings. After all the stuff that’s happened lately, it wasn’t the sort of thing she took for granted.

_(And weirdly enough, something about Maze reminded her of Lilith, too, though she tried not to think of it as a bad thing; granted, the new queen of hell was cunning, underhanded, and manipulative, but she did give Sabrina back her powers, which, she supposed, was a point in her favor)._

The witch blew out a breath. “Well, who am I supposed to hang out with while you’re gone? I don’t exactly know anyone else here in L.A.”

“Hmm. I must be chopped liver then,” Lucifer muttered a bit too loudly into his cup before taking a long sip. “Wonderful.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, please. You know what I meant.”

Maze watched the pair of them in growing interest, eyes narrowed in thought _(It was weird, seeing the devil meet his match in a sixteen-year-old girl. It was also kind of funny, too, but she’d sooner gnaw her own arm off before saying that to Lucifer’s face. Believe it or not, the guy deserved a break. She knew it must’ve already taken him every ounce of self-control to just sit there drinking his whiskey instead of going on a cross-country rampage to hunt for this Blackwood guy, himself)._

She nodded her head towards Sabrina before stepping into the elevator. “You know what, princess, I don’t think you’ll be needing me all that much.” She sent a smirk Lucifer’s way _(smiles, she never seemed to get right, but smirks she perfected long before they left hell)._ “I’m sure the two of you should get along just fine.”

And just like that, as swiftly as she appeared, the demon was gone.

“It seems you’ve taken quite a shine to Maze, haven’t you?” Lucifer chimed in, a self-satisfied look plastered on his face _(the exact one that his daughter’s been trying to avoid all evening)._ Sabrina didn’t indulge him with an answer, and instead turned on her heel to stalk back to the comfy armchair she was just beginning to enjoy before her father arrived. “Come on, you can admit it. You had a good time today.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the young girl intoned, flipping open her book and focusing her attention on the pages just so she could keep herself from looking at him _(nevermind that she kept reading through the same line over and over, not a word of it piercing her thoughts)._ “Yes, my second day here was slightly better than the first, but that’s just because nothing could ever top the awfulness that was last night.”

_(Ah. There it was. Lucifer always knew the evening would circle back to the things left unsaid, but he still held out the slightest hope that maybe it wouldn’t; that maybe he could spend one nice, quiet night with his daughter, and everything that could ever hurt them both, they’d deal with in the morning)._

The devil sighed, long and deep. He set his glass back down on the counter once he found that the sudden dryness in his mouth wasn’t the type to be washed away by liquor. “So, we’ve come back to this.”

Sabrina realized that the conversation was one that needed to be had, that couldn’t be avoided any longer lest it grow into an elephant bigger than the room itself and trample them both in their sleep. She followed his lead and put the grimoire down. “No,” she shook her head. “No, we’re not coming back, because we never really shut the door on any of it. We just…we just left things hanging in the air. And I know it sounds stupid and pointless and tiring, but we’re gonna have to work this out, one way or another.”

“I know.” Lucifer answered, a somber tone to his voice as he stared at her face, all furrowed brows and biting wit and no trace of her mother _(She was far too much like him that it was almost frightening. At some point, he had to wonder if the same paths that led him astray were also waiting for her down the road)._ “I know, darling. It’s just…must we do this so soon? I just got you back-”

“You never had me.” She snapped. “Let’s get that straight. And just so we’re clear, the fact that you left, I can accept. Big deal. Parents walk away everyday. It’s what you left me _with_ that I don’t think I can ever forgive.”

“Sabrina-”

“No. You sit there and listen to everything I have to say, because I will not say it again. I don’t care if it hurts you or if it wounds your precious pride. You need to know what you did. You need to _understand_ that this is so much more than just leaving a child behind.”

 _(Slow to reason and quick to anger. Lucifer never quite understood what Amenadiel had once told him about Sabrina until now. It was almost as if a switch had been flicked and she was now raising her voice at him from across the room)._ Slowly, he nodded his head for her to continue. He was the same way when his Father never listened, and look where they were now. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Sabrina.

The witch expected to be yelled at, like Zelda did when she got out of hand. Or perhaps calmed down with gentle words like Hilda when her tone got too harsh and her temper too far. She never had anyone look at her, _really look at her,_ and decide that they wanted to hear what she had to say. When Lucifer did just that, she didn’t know what to make of it.

“There’s a darkness inside of me,” she whispered, voice shaky but softer than when she began. “It’s raw and potent and powerful, and I can just feel it eating away at my soul. For so long, I’ve wanted it gone, but all anyone’s ever told me is to embrace it. Take it. Let it define who I am. And no matter how much I don’t want to, it seems like I don’t have any other choice. I’m like this because it’s in my blood. I’m like this…because of you.”

Her eyes flickered to him, shiny with unshed tears, and Lucifer felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “You know, for someone who talks such a big game about free will, you sure didn’t think to leave me with much of it.” She smiled bitterly. “Now everyone expects me to save the day just because I’m stronger than the rest of them, but no one ever thought to ask if I even wanted to be the hero.”

Lucifer felt his grip around his glass tighten. _(How dare they? From what the doctor had told him, no one except for the Spellmans batted an eye when Sabrina was stripped naked in church, chased bloody through the woods, or led to hang by the neck on an old tree. She owed them absolutely nothing, yet those gaggle of ungrateful swine still wanted everything. He ought to send the detective and the douche on their trail, after all; take away their magic and see how fast those shriveled-up feet can run from their crimes)._

“It’s not your job to be anyone’s savior.”

She looked at him, all chinked armor and strangled words. “But as a father, it was your job to be mine. Once, _just once,_ you could’ve been there, you know, and it would’ve been enough.”

_(And she meant it. She didn’t even care about the small moments. First words and missed birthdays were the last thing on her mind. The big moments, though, the ones that felt even bigger than herself and fell right out of her hands before she could even get a hold on them; she could’ve done with some help then. Because maybe she wouldn’t have died if he had gotten to those angels in time. Maybe Nick wouldn’t be in hell if he had gone up against the false dark lord. A lot of things would’ve turned out so much better if he had popped in at one of those times and asked his insufferable “What do you need, darling?” Maybe, back then, she would’ve actually indulged him with an answer)._

Lucifer opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the right words. What was there even left to say at that point? _(All along, he’d thought that staying away would make him a good father. Turns out, all it ever did was make him a worse one. And perhaps even more horrifying, he’d spent millennia hating God for abandoning him, when in fact, though how much he convinced himself otherwise, he ended up doing the exact same thing)._

“I-I didn’t know,” he sighed, a weariness to him _._ He closed his eyes, shook his head, steadied himself. When he opened them again, he looked right at her, and Sabrina had never felt quite so seen. “I should’ve known.”

“Yeah.” She nodded in agreement. A single tear managed to slide down her cheek, and the sight of it was a knife straight through his heart. It took everything in Lucifer not to reach out and wipe it away. “Yeah, you should’ve.”

“You didn’t deserve any of that, Sabrina. None at all. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

_(There. He’d found it. The only thing left to say)._

She frowned back at him. “At some point, you’re gonna have to stop saying it and actually start meaning it.”

_(It seems he didn’t say it quite right, though)._

He got up from the bar stool and walked over to her, all measured steps and hands in his pockets. Sabrina flinched away just the slightest bit when he took the seat next to hers.

“Darling, I mean it. Truly. And I know I wasn’t there for the longest time, but I’m here now.” Outside the window, the wind began to pick up and he had to wonder if her trembling fingers had anything to do with it. In a move that surprised even himself, he took one of her hands in his and gave it a little squeeze _(gentle and reassuring, like the detective did, just to show that he was there with her)._ No more than a second later, the wind stopped howling. “I’d like to make things right.”

Sabrina looked down sharply at their clasped hands, brows furrowed, and Lucifer fully expected that she’d pull away. Instead, she only closed her eyes, almost as if in thought, and let out a shaky breath. “If you really want to apologize…you’ll help me fix everything.”

“Of course, whatever you need-”

“I need to go to hell,” she blurted out before he could even finish.

Lucifer stared at her for a long time, trying to understand. What was it about the pit that drew her in so much? Was it the screaming, the agony, the towering pillars of fire? _(He wouldn’t actually be surprised if it was the last one. Her fixation with hellfire was rather difficult to ignore)._ Still, whatever she thought she saw when she peeked inside, it couldn’t have been enough to warrant such an unhealthy obsession. She had mentioned something before about getting revenge, and _that_ he could understand, but even then, the idea was preposterous. Wasn’t hell punishment enough? No, it had to be something more, something deeper…

He pushed the rest of his thoughts away _(Whatever her reason was, he would not give in to it. As long as he lived and breathed, his daughter would never step foot in that wretched place)._ “You already know my answer to that, Sabrina. It hasn’t changed.”

Almost instantly, her gaze hardened back to steel and she dropped his hand so quickly as if she had been burnt. “Well then,” she said, clipped and distant and cold. She was still sitting right next to him, but Lucifer felt as though a wall had suddenly gone up between them. “It seems you’ve already made up your mind. No use arguing about it any further.”

“Now, just wait a minute-”

“It’s been a long day. I think I’ll just go finish this in my room,” she smiled tightly, grabbing the grimoire off the table and getting up to leave. Salem instantly curled up around her ankles and she bent down to pick him up, a sigh on the edge of her lips. She turned back to him with a curt nod, something polite but not quite so warm _(no doubt the handiwork of one Zelda Spellman)._ “Good night, Lucifer.”

Before he could even think to answer, her heels were already clicking down the hall, and he had to sit back and wonder if he would ever get used to the sound. He shook his head _(everyone always said teenagers were difficult, but bloody hell, he didn’t expect them to be so right)_ and got to his feet, himself, walking back to the bar to down the rest of his unfinished drink. By the time the last sip left a stinging trail down his throat, and the shadows began to dance eerily around the empty living room, he was too exhausted to think of anything but rest.

He took one last look at the skyline out the balcony before turning off the lights.

“Good night, Sabrina.”

* * *

_She was back inside the desecrated church. Vines, twisted and tangled over years of untamed growth, sealed off the windows, crawled over the walls, and would have overrun the floors had enchantments not been placed to keep the wooden boards exceptionally clean (after a while, scrubbing off the blood after every black mass proved to be quite tedious). Under the faint glow of the candles, though, those very same vines seemed to come alive and trail closely behind her footsteps as she inched closer to the unholy altar._

_The pews were empty and the only sound that reached her ears was her own ragged breathing. Something was wrong. She shouldn’t have been there. And yet her feet were dead set on making their journey to the head of the room._

_Just as she was about to ascend the dark marble steps, she felt something sharp and cold pierce through her shoulder. Then her ribcage. Then her stomach. She looked down and saw three arrows stabbed at her flesh and pooling thick, crimson blood on the carpet. The confusion came first, and the pain came later. When it did, though, it arrived in waves, the heavy, crashing kind that sent her down on her knees and had her fingers clutching blindly at the sacrifice table just so she wouldn’t collapse completely._

_Suddenly, a hand, strong and sure, grasped hers and she was pulled back onto her feet. She hadn’t expected any help, thinking she was alone, but she was grateful, all the same. She clutched at their shoulders to steady herself, and just when she turned her head to look at the face of her savior…_

_“Jerathmiel.”_

_She would know those murderous eyes anywhere._

_“Ready to repent now, witch?”_

_Her vision was starting to get blurry and she could feel her knees buckling underneath her. From behind, she sensed a second presence lingering about. Their name was already on the tip of her tongue, but then it was practically ripped out of her mouth when she felt the crown of thorns being forced violently into her head. “Mehitable…”_

_Jerathmiel pried her hands away from his body and sent her falling to the ground, though if it was painful, she couldn’t really say; she had lost all feeling. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The two angels looked at her smugly, towering over her, shining with divine light that she wasn’t so sure they deserved. They joined their hands together, whispered a prayer, and suddenly, the church was overcome with the scent of burning flesh._

_Hers._

_And before she could do anything more to stop it, there was nothing left but darkness._

* * *

Lucifer woke up to the sound of screaming.

It was faint and distant _(the soundproof walls were to blame for that)_ , but it was the same voice that yelled at him from across the room just a few hours earlier, and he could recognize it in a heartbeat. Dread settled in quickly at the pit of his stomach, and he was rushing out of bed and down the hall before he could even fully make sense of what was going on. _(All he knew was that Sabrina was hurt, or-or in danger, and fucking hell, he’s barely had her for a day and he already managed to put her in jeopardy)._

He was just about to knock down her door when he realized that she left it unlocked _(though for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Given her guarded and untrusting nature, she seemed exactly the type to seal her room shut with layers upon layers of protective magic),_ and warily pushed it open with a suspicious edge to him _(unless she did leave it locked but someone broke in. If so, he’d never killed a human with his bare hands before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything)._

“Sabrina,” he called out uneasily. The room was pitch black and his eyes couldn’t quite adjust to the dark, but his fingers shortly found the switch on the wall and soon enough, light was spilling into every nook and cranny of the open space. Salem hissed at him for the sudden intrusion.

“Oh, bugger off, you little cretin.” He hissed back. _(He meant it when he said that cats were detestable, contemptuous creatures. The only reason he even decided to shape his daughter’s familiar into one was because Amenadiel had once given a passing comment about how a young Sabrina got into a row with her aunts for refusing to buy her a kitten)._ “You had one job, you know, and that was to keep her-”

A soft whimper sounded out from underneath the covers, and his eyes were drawn to Sabrina, dressed in cotton pajamas, clutching a pillow to her chest as she slept with brows furrowed. Her demeanor was the farthest thing from peaceful _(the sweat on her forehead and the tears on her cheeks could very well attest to that),_ but at least she wasn’t bleeding or hurt or _dead._ That alone felt like a tremendous success.

“-safe.” Lucifer sighed in relief.

He pulled over a chair to her bedside and sat down, steepling his fingers underneath his chin as he watched her toss and turn in her sleep. She used to have severe night terrors, he could remember, back in her terrible-twos. They got so bad that Maze began grating on the other demons, so sure that one of them was responsible for invading her dreams and terrorizing her while she rested. Of course, none of them ever admitted to it. They didn’t even know who Sabrina Spellman was. 

After the first few weeks, it was Hilda who came up with the rather ingenious solution of sneaking calming draughts into warm glasses of milk before bedtime. Of course, it was not without its flaws. Some nights, the girl was still haunted by a bad dream or two, but nothing the sisters couldn’t manage. Before they knew it, the little witch was three and had long grown out of her nightmares.

Far be it from him to have read Dr. Spock in his free time, but he was quite certain that teenagers weren’t supposed to be haunted by long-forgotten toddler-year monsters. But if they were, he could still probably remember Hilda’s potion that Amenadiel described to him in great detail _(his hellish visits did last excruciatingly long for a reason)_ , though he wasn’t so sure where he’d find valerian sprigs and wormwood in L.A. at 2 in the bloody morning. He barely had any milk in the refrigerator.

“N-no, please don’t,” Sabrina murmured, cutting off the rest of his thoughts. Her breathing was rapid and her eyes were screwed shut, yet a few tears still managed to slide out and hit her pillowcase. “I’ll repent. Just-just don’t hurt me anymore.”

Lucifer wrinkled his brows. “Repent?” _(The word bothered him more than he would care to admit, particularly because it was a favorite in the Silver City. Left and right, it was practically the only thought on his siblings’ minds as they ran around trying to convert humanity. Nevermind that it meant reacceptance or forgiveness – he was never offered either of those things. It was a word often spoken in his Father’s house, and he never thought he would hear it in his)._

Salem leaped down from his perch at the edge of the bed and nudged his head at Lucifer’s feet, meowing incessantly against the tense silence. The devil scowled at him and moved his legs out of reach. “Yes, I’m well aware that she’s having a nightmare. You’re not the only one with eyes around here.”

The cat sneered at him.

“Well, of course I’m going to do something about it,” he shot back. _(Bloody demanding little demon. He was lucky the witchling had a fondness for him, else her father would have already turned him into a writhing, pitiful worm)._

Lucifer sighed and brushed a hand against Sabrina’s forehead, gently smoothing back her platinum curls. She was still scrunching her eyes almost to a painful extent, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going on inside her head. _(Was it the monsters again? Was it Blackwood? Or was it something else entirely, something that all his years away kept him from finding out for himself?)_

He shut his eyes and whispered a string of unintelligible words under his breath; whether they were said in a language long gone or one that humanity was simply yet to discover, Salem wasn’t sure. Still, it didn’t keep him from craning his neck and watching the whole exchange in silent curiosity. Almost instantly, all the harsh lines of his mistress softened, and she visibly relaxed as if the bad thoughts had been wiped clean from her mind.

When Lucifer fluttered his eyes back open, Sabrina was sleeping peacefully under his touch. He smiled softly at the lack of distress on her face and pulled his hand away. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

Salem returned to his place at the foot of the bed and looked on in quiet wonder as the devil – the same scarred angel who punished sinners mercilessly and forged him into existence at the deepest bowels of hell – leaned down to pull the covers into place over the sleeping princess. The demon almost expected him to give the girl a kiss on her fair hair, but he must’ve thought better of it _(they weren’t quite there yet),_ and crossed back to the other side of the room.

This time, before Lucifer shut the door behind him, he made sure to leave the lights on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got any headcanons for this AU? Make sure to share them down below!
> 
> We're now a month into quarantine, and yes, it sucks, but we just have to hold on a little longer. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this update, which is possibly the longest thing I have ever written (save for my thesis, of course, but let's not dive into that hot mess just yet). I've tried to condense all the things you guys seem to enjoy (we've got angst, we've got confrontation, we've got bonding, we've got Maze!) Tell me if I've missed anything, and I'll try to work it in next chapter. Fair warning, though, you better be ready for some LAPD hijinks, a tad bit more plot exposition, and (if things go as planned) Sabrina finally catching a break. We all know that girl deserves it.
> 
> Anyway, make sure to subscribe so you don't miss out on anything, and leave some kudos and comments to share some love <3 Did you guys like this chapter? Is the longer format a yay or a nay? Tell me what you think down below. 
> 
> Till next time, sending love and positive thoughts!


	16. Call it a Gut Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to read through the notes at the end of the chapter!

In hindsight, Chloe should have spent more time weighing her options before asking Maze to drive Trixie to school that particular morning. Not that her roommate ever backed out of a favor before _(she always held up her end of a bargain, regardless of whether or not said bargain was a disaster in the making),_ but Chloe must have been _really_ out of it when she actually considered the bounty hunter as her first choice for kid-friendly transportation. In her defense, she wasn’t expecting the precinct to call her up at 5 am and tell her that a new suspect on the Brenner case was just brought in for questioning, or that Ella apparently found a “ground-breaking” lead on the investigation that she _absolutely had to check out right away._

And to think she went to sleep last night thinking she could make Hawaiian bread sandwiches for breakfast.

“So,” she asked Maze, pulling on her jacket and grabbing her keys off the counter. “Will you do it? Take Trixie to school for me?”

The little human popped her head up from behind the couch where she was watching her morning cartoons, a toothy grin on her face. “Yeah, Maze, it’ll be fun! You can bring your knives to scare off that mean girl, Patricia. She won’t know what hit her.”

“Trixie!” Chloe chided, eyes wide. “We already talked about this. One more trip to the principal’s office and you’ll be suspended.”

Trixie only grumbled under her breath and crossed her arms before ducking back to watch her TV in peace. The detective brought a hand up to her head _(when did sweet-toothed, angel-faced nine-year-olds become such a handful?)_

Maze, in a surprising display of tact, only lightly snorted while polishing her knives instead of offering to get rid of the principal altogether _(as per usual)_ or suggesting that Chloe loosen her granny panties _(also as per usual)._ She set down the rag and swiveled around in her barstool to face her roommate. “Sorry, Decker. I would, but I already promised Lucifer that I’d help out _his_ little human today.”

The detective’s eyebrows knitted together, voice lowering to a whisper _(while Lucifer’s daughter seemed nice enough – and that, in and of itself, was already a stretch – she didn’t need Trixie latching on to her as a prospective new best friend anytime soon. There was something…off about the girl, like Dan had suggested, though she couldn’t quite put a finger on it just yet)._ “Wait…you know about Sabrina?”

“Of course.” The woman scoffed back. “I was literally standing next to Lucifer when she was born. So much blood and screaming and crying.” She bit into the charred toast she made when she realized that Chloe wasn’t about to start on those sandwiches anytime soon. “It was awesome.”

 _(At that point, Chloe was beginning to put a timeline together in her head – call it a fine-tuned side effect of her day job. Now, Lucifer and Maze always claimed to have been together for quite some time, but she never really chalked it up to be almost two decades, maybe even more, if she was already close enough to witness the birth of his sixteen year old)._ “How long have you two known each other, exactly?”

“Since fire and brimstone, baby.”

Chloe nodded her head, smacked her lips together. “Right.” _(She should have known better by now than to expect a straight answer from the so-called devil and his demon buddy)._ “So, all this time, you knew? And you didn’t think to tell me? Come on, I thought we were friends.”

Maze eyed her weirdly. “Well, it never really came up, did it? Besides, I have other friends too, but I don’t go around telling them about _your_ spawn.”

The detective sighed, putting her hands up. “You know what, forget it.” _(This conversation was impossible, and she was going to be late for work. Besides, she promised Lucifer that she would only start asking the important questions when he was ready to answer them, and she meant it. If only he could be ready sooner, because the curiosity was just about to eat her alive.)_ “You’re sure you can’t drive Trixie? It will only take about thirty minutes, and the traffic won’t be so bad if you leave now.”

The bounty hunter shook her head. “No, thirty minutes is already cutting it too close, and I have a flight to catch.”

“A flight? I thought you were gonna help Sabrina.”

“Yeah, I am.” Maze stood from her chair and wheeled out a luggage bag from behind the counter. A pretty hefty looking duffel was also placed on top of it, with a number of sharp edges and Mazikeen-brand weapons that shouldn’t make their way past immigration peeking out from the slightly-open zipper. “I’m hunting down this jackass that tried to kill her. He’s been on the run for a few weeks now, but I’ll find that human scum. I always do.”

“What?” Chloe couldn’t help her mouth from falling slightly ajar. “Kill her? Maze, that’s terrible. What happened?”

“Apparently, he’s the high priest at their church, and basically threatened Sabrina’s family with excommunication if she didn’t go to his stupid boarding school. Then on her first week there, he sent his daughter and some psycho friends of hers to haze the girl and pressure her into hanging herself. Good thing the little princess knows not to take shit from anyone.”

The detective brought a hand up to her mouth _(No wonder Sabrina was so troubled. Going through all that must have been a living nightmare)._ “God, Lucifer must be livid. I don’t know what I’d do if anything like that were to happen to Trixie.”

Maze scoffed. “Please, that’s not even the worst of it. The shifty son of a bitch couldn’t handle the fact that a sixteen-year-old girl was beating him at his own game and poisoned his whole church before fleeing like the coward he is.” She grabbed her freshly-polished knives off the table and stuck them into the holsters on her leg. “He’s not getting away with it, though. Once I’m done with him, he’s going to hell in pieces that no demon would know to put back together.”

Her phone was already ringing incessantly in her pocket _(no doubt Ella calling to know if she was on her way),_ but Chloe chose to ignore it. She was onto something, something _huge,_ and if she didn’t get to the bottom of it, it might as well have been the biggest failure of her career.

“Now, hold on just a second.” She dragged a hand through her hair and looked at her roommate incredulously. “Hazing a teenager almost to death, poisoning a whole congregation, Maze, those are felonies. That guy’s a murderer! Why didn’t you go to the police about this?”

“And what? You’ll slap some cuffs on him and call it a day?” The bounty hunter chuckled, pulling on her own jacket and swiping her passport from the table. “Hate to break it to you, Decker, but a lot of powerful people want this guy dead, and he’s never left them much of a trail to follow. I think you’re a bit out of your league here.”

“Maze, I’m a homicide detective.”

The other woman only raised her brows, nonplussed. “Yeah, and ten of you couldn’t get this guy within five meters of a police station. I’m sure of it. So good luck with that.”

With one last smug smile, she turned on her heel and picked up the duffel bag, pulling the luggage behind her as she rounded back to the living room to hug Trixie goodbye. _(The nine-year-old couldn’t quite get why her best friend had to leave so long and so soon, but when Maze explained that she had to go help another little girl, all it took was an extra long fist bump and the promise to kick some serious ass, and the demon was sent on her way)._

The detective trailed after her roommate in long strides, a worried disbelief about the whole thing painted plainly on her face. _(If Maze was telling the truth – another stretch, come to think of it, but she had to take her for her word on this one – then this man was a danger to society, and he just ran off to God knows where. For all they knew, he could be in L.A., waiting for a chance to strike back at Sabrina.)_ “At least tell me that you’re bringing him in when you catch him.”

Maze was almost to the door, but she stopped walking and turned around to face Chloe. With a heavy sigh, the bounty hunter looked her right in the eye, trying to make her _understand_ that her incessant goody-two-shoes route wasn’t gonna work, at least not for her. “Unfortunately, Decker, you know that’s not my decision to make.”

_(It was Lucifer’s. Or maybe even Sabrina’s. It really didn’t matter. Either way, both seemed furious and unforgiving when given the chance, and whatever choice they made regarding this Faustus guy’s punishment, it was going to end in hell one way or another, and Maze was completely fine with that)._

“Well, it doesn’t have to be like that. We have laws in place for this, and all his victims will get their justice-”

“I’ll decide what justice is.” The bounty hunter cut in, taking a step forward. It was a surprising shift in demeanor, and the malicious look in her stare would have easily scared any other human, but the detective only tilted up her chin, unflinching. Maze pursed her lips and exhaled sharply through her nose. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Another second I waste here is another second that jackass stays one step ahead. So if you really want him to get what he deserves, you’ll step aside and let me do my damn job.”

Chloe crossed her arms and moved to stand squarely in front of the door. If her roommate’s eyes were beginning to roll all the way back to kingdom come, or if the phone vibrating relentlessly in her back pocket was _absolutely_ going to earn her an earful at the precinct, then she just had to see them as little sacrifices for the greater good _(Numerous lives were at stake here, and she’d be damned before she let an erratic roommate or some shortsighted superiors get in the way of facing a homicidal maniac in court, putting him in chains, and sealing him off in prison: the only way it was meant to go. Not killing him, or severing him limb from limb, or whatever inhumane thing it was that Maze was planning to do. Otherwise, she’d be no different than any other murderer, herself)._

“You said it yourself. The guy could be anywhere. How do you even know where to start?”

The demon effortlessly pushed her out of the way with a well-placed shove and yanked the door open before Chloe could even open her mouth in protest. “That’s the thing. I don’t.” She stepped out into the sunlight, unfolding a pair of sunglasses that the detective didn’t even notice was tucked into her jeans. “Gotta start somewhere, though. And I don’t know, Scotland sounds like a good place as any.”

Chloe raised a brow. “So that’s it? All the countries in the world and you start in…Western Europe?” _(Maybe she didn’t have to worry that much after all. With Maze’s haphazard plans and the sheer size of the United Kingdom she’d have to scour before setting her sights someplace else, the detective could get to him first before any more mass poisonings or Maze-induced butchering could take place)._

The bounty hunter slipped the glasses on and smirked back at her roommate. She shrugged one shoulder with a practiced ease. “Call it a gut feeling.” _(People always seemed to forget that her mother was the first witch. Like all the rest of the Lilim, there was little magic on earth that she wouldn’t be able to track down. And Blackwood? Well, that guy left a trail filthier than his soul)._ She walked over to her car, throwing a hand over her shoulder to wave back at the detective.

“See you in a few days, Decker.”

* * *

When Sabrina blinked her eyes open, she almost forgot where she was. The girl half-expected to see peeling floral wallpaper or the extremely fluffy quilt that Hilda made when she was seven, but when she was greeted by the sight of floor-to-ceiling windows and trendy furniture that tried so hard to look casual but obviously came straight out of a designer catalogue, it was fairly easy to get pulled back into the reality that _yes, she was in L.A. And yes, she happened to live here now. With the devil. Who was actually her dad. And who seemed to have no interest in dragging her to hell with him this time around, much to her boyfriend-saving disappointment._

She sat up on the bed and dragged a hand through her sleep-mussed hair, the other one patting lazily at the empty space next to her in search of Salem _(she knew she was dreaming again last night, just as she always did ever since those angels came to town, and her familiar usually curled up beside her when things got bad)._ To her surprise, though, he was nowhere under the pillows or tangled up in the sheets. Instead, a loud meow caught her attention and she found him standing vigil by the closed door _(never locked, though; she’s had enough of locked doors ever since the witch’s cell)_ , eyes alert and fur standing upright as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“Oh no, Salem, did my nightmares keep you up again?” The witch frowned, pulling on her slippers and picking him up from the floor. She sighed as she petted him softly. “They were pretty terrible again, huh?”

The cat cuddled closer against her neck and answered back with a low purr. Sabrina knitted her brows at his response and pulled away to look at him square in the face. “What do you mean they weren’t that bad last night? It’s the same thing every time and they’re _always_ bad. You know that.”

Salem ducked his head and murmured something against her wrist, and she ended up setting him back on the floor to give him a good staring-down. _(For once, she just wished he’d spit out whatever he had to say instead of stringing her along in exhausting little circles, but no one could really expect demonic servants to be perfect, could they? Otherwise, they’d be bred behind pearly white gates instead of the deepest crevices of hell)._ “No, Salem, I _don’t_ understand how dreams are magically wiped. If I did, then maybe I would have gotten rid of this problem a long time ago.”

The demon shot back with another irritated meow and the witch rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t _know_ how my father did it-” Sabrina closed her mouth mid-sentence when the reality of Salem’s statement sunk in. She turned to the cat with furrowed brows, hands on her hips, as she tried to wrap her head around the thought.

“Are you saying…that Lucifer came in here last night while I was in the middle of my nightmare, and just…whispered it away?”

_(It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, that was for sure. He was the actual devil, the source of all witchcraft she’s ever known. If anyone was gonna tap into some ancient magic and apparently command the terror straight out of her mind, it might as well have been him. Still, Sabrina didn’t want to believe it. Because believing in whatever Salem saw would mean believing that her father actually cared, and she didn’t think she was ready for that thought just yet)._

Salem made a little noise in agreement and Sabrina almost cursed under her breath _(What game was her father playing at, rushing to her rescue, manipulating her dreams, tucking her into bed? If this was his way of making up for all the things he missed out on when she was younger, then it was too little, too late. At that point, there was only one way to win her over, and even that simple favor, he refused to do)._ The girl shook her head. “Whatever. It doesn’t change a thing.”

If the demon had hands, now would have been the perfect time to bury his face in them. She turned around to make the bed, and the cat could only look on helplessly at his mistress’s stubbornness. _(He was on her side, always. And he knew what she’s been through, how she’s been hurt, but her father was really trying his best, and it was immensely frustrating how she refused to see it. If only she realized how easier things would be if she just opened her eyes for once and saw that Lucifer was on her side, too)._

Even with her back to him as she fluffed the pillows, Sabrina could practically feel Salem’s eyes boring into the base of her skull in his usual exasperated, judgmental fashion. “Stop giving me that look. It’s off-putting.” She called out, still focused on pulling the sheets in place. The cat grumbled something _truly_ off-putting under his breath, but still turned his head and did as he was told.

By the time Sabrina had finished, her signature black headband was fixed onto her head and a new book was grabbed from the growing pile on her nightstand _(Lucifer’s library was beginning to gather dust, and she liked to think she was doing him a favor by checking out a few of the more untouched materials)._ She picked the cat up gracelessly from the floor, much to his annoyance at the sudden disturbance, and opened the door.

“You can sulk all you want, but that’s probably just the hunger taking over.” She rolled her eyes as her feet padded to the empty kitchen. It was still relatively dark with the curtains drawn, but Sabrina easily found her way to the light switch without much fuss. Salem found it a bit disconcerting how she was able to memorize the house so quickly given the precious few minutes she had to explore last night.

The girl turned back to her demon with a wicked grin once the bulbs flickered on and cast the whole room in an early morning glow. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I think I saw a stash of pop tarts around here yesterday, and I am absolutely starving.”

* * *

Chloe ended up driving Trixie to school herself, even if it meant turning up half an hour late to the precinct. Ella didn’t mind waiting, and was understanding almost to a fault _(like always),_ and the perp was still in his holding cell by the time the detective got to him for interrogation _(as if he had anywhere else to go)._ All in all, the morning hadn’t turned out as bad as she expected, though it did nothing to stop the worried knot sitting at the pit of her stomach, or the way her mind circled back over and over again to her roommate’s latest bounty, no matter how many times she told herself Maze had it under control.

Truth be told, she was bothered _(Who wouldn’t be, though? Murderous priests running loose wasn’t exactly the sort of thing to take lightly)_. And much like everything else that bothered her, she wouldn’t rest until she knew it was taken care of.

“Hey, Dan.” She walked up to her ex-husband’s desk, jaw set and eyes hardened, and he just knew she meant business. “You can get in touch with some precincts in Massachusetts, right?”

_(Usually, when Chloe asked for a favor, she would rest her hip against the edge of the table, or flash that warm, inviting smile that won him over the first time he met her. This Chloe, though, the one who stood with lips pursed and forehead creased, fingers clutched tightly around the case file he recognized from the park altercation the other day, she was someone different. She wasn’t Mom Chloe, who read their kid bedtime stories at night, or Actress Chloe, who liked spending time undercover even if she’d never admit it. She was the Chloe who brought in criminals and took down syndicates and deserved her badge more than anyone else at the precinct. Dan, for one, would never stand in her way)._

The man set his hand gripper down and sat up straighter in his chair. “Yeah, sure. Why do you ask?”

Chloe tried brushing it away with a shrug of her shoulder, but Dan was sure she wouldn’t bring it up unless it was something important. “It’s probably nothing, but I think I’ve got a case that involves a local. Try and see if they’ve got record of any recent suspicious activities in Salem.”

“Salem? As in witch county, Salem?”

She nodded her head. “Exactly. And I know it’s already a pretty small place to begin with, but try to narrow it down further to one particular town. If this case is as big as I think it is, we might have to look into it ourselves.”

The other detective was pretty sure that any illegal activity over in Massachusetts was well out of LAPD jurisdiction, but if Chloe said it was big enough to concern them, then he would just have to trust her. “Well, which town do you have in mind?”

Chloe gave Sabrina’s file another once-over as soon as Maze left that morning, and she knew where she had to start. She made a promise to Lucifer that she’d stop looking into his daughter unless he told her it was alright, but if this was essentially for the girl’s safety and the well-being of everyone else in the hometown she left behind, then he’d have to understand, right? _(Still, it did nothing to quiet the voice at the back of her mind that said her partner wasn’t the type who easily understood; and what he couldn’t understand, he couldn’t forgive. She didn’t know what she’d do to herself if it ever came to that)._

The detective closed her eyes and shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. A life was a life, and each one deserved their justice. Her dad’s death taught her that. And she’d make sure this homicidal maniac learned it too, as soon as she was done with him.

She looked Dan right in the eye, a renewed vigor to her. “Greendale. There’s something going on in Greendale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherever you are in the world, I hope you're safe, staying indoors, and doing what you can to ride out this pandemic along with the rest of us. I know how bad things can get for some of us out there, but I hope these updates could bring you some sort of respite and entertainment during these dark times.
> 
> Speaking of respites, I noticed my readers aren't as active as they used to be, and though I know you guys don't owe me anything, it's really been taking a hit on my inspiration lately. It hasn't been easy putting these chapters out, and what little comments or feedback you can share about what you like in the story or what you're looking forward to lets me know that you appreciate my work, and that can go such a long way in helping me write better stories every week. I know things have been tough, but a little love doesn't cost more than a few seconds, and it gives me all the more reason to wake up and do a good job each morning <3
> 
> Anyway, Salem's playing mediator, Chloe's on the case, and Maze is on her way to Scotland! Even I'm excited to see where this goes. Here's to hoping that I'll be able to flesh it out properly by next week. All I can say is that Chapter 17 will be a bit lighter (we've had enough angst for two weeks), and that the Sabrina-Lucifer bonding time you've been requesting might finally see the light of day.
> 
> Don't forget to leave comments, kudos, and subscribe so you don't miss out on a single thing!
> 
> I hope everyone keeps safe till then :)


	17. Dead Man's Pop Tarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed any part of this chapter, please make sure to leave a comment down below to give the author some much-needed support and motivation. Thank you so much, and happy reading!

Sabrina was halfway done with her book and working through a second pop tart when Lucifer wandered into the kitchen, dressed in a very on-brand black and red robe that looked exactly how she imagined the devil’s sleepwear would be _(though if she was being honest, it seemed less “infernal chic” and more “latest murder victim in an Agatha Christie novel”)._ She brought the book up closer to her face, pretending she hadn’t noticed him, but by then, his irritatingly chipper voice had already cut through the air and she had no other choice but to set it back down with a silent groan.

“Sabrina!” He grinned, rounding the table and pulling out the seat next to hers. She wasn’t much of a morning person _(not many witches were)_ , and everyone within a ten-mile radius could usually tell, but he didn’t seem to share the same set of eyes and basic observation skills. “Slept well, darling?”

She knew that he was well aware of how soundly she slept _(mostly because of whatever dream-altering magic he used on her last night),_ and she hated that he had to ask, as if he didn’t have enough reason to be smug already. He was probably just going to use the whole thing as an excuse to bring up how nice and considerate he’d been, and how Sabrina owed him some gratitude now because of it. The question in itself seemed innocent enough, but she had him all figured out. It would take a lot more than a good night’s sleep to play Sabrina Spellman like that.

“Yes, surprisingly,” she admitted, a polite smile on her face, though her eyes were trained on him like a hawk, just waiting for him to slip and confirm her suspicions. “That was probably the longest sleep I’ve had in months.”

Lucifer smiled back in relief as if it were the best thing he’d heard all morning, and she was slightly taken aback by how genuine it looked. “Hmm. That’s good. Must have been the Egyptian Cotton sheets. They’ve done me wonders, actually. I had them shipped from-”

He started trailing off about thread counts and the underground fabric market, but she stopped listening halfway through. _(If he wanted to win her over and play the good guy, he had the perfect chance. For all he knew, Sabrina was fast asleep and knew nothing about how he saved her from another round of nightmares, and the reveal of what he’d done for her would’ve put him in a new light, made him seem less like a stranger and more like a father. In between his rambling about bedsheets and special cotton plants, though, he never said a word about it, and for the life of her, Sabrina couldn’t figure out why)._

“Yeah.” The young witch was still looking at him curiously, trying to piece his ulterior motive together but came up with nothing. _(The more she contemplated it, the more it seemed that he might have just really cared, and she wasn’t prepared for it at the slightest)._ “That must’ve been it.”

She looked far too distressed for someone who’s allegedly had a good night’s rest, Lucifer observed, but he just brushed it off as teenage mood swings. The parenting book he downloaded on his phone last night after her little episode said it was normal _(her hell-related tantrums, probably less so, but he was yet to find a book that covered the topic)._

His eyes darted around the table, looking for anything that could steer the conversation towards more engaging waters _(he must’ve missed out on some fundamental hours of sleep while browsing through that decidedly unhelpful parenting manual, if the history of Egyptian bed covers was the best he could come up with on short notice)_ before landing on the stack of sugary pastries on her plate. “Ah, I see you’ve found Maze’s secret pop tart stash.”

She’s only known the demon two days, but she was pretty sure the violent ball of sarcastic rage that almost made the waiter trip over his own feet during yesterday’s lunch wasn’t the type to hoard overly-sweet breakfast pastries. “These kid snacks belong to Maze?” She frowned, holding up the half-finished piece and taking a bite. “I find that pretty hard to believe.”

“Well, not exactly hers, per se,” he conceded. “They did belong to a muffin-topped health guru first before she stole them out of his house. But since his untimely demise, I don’t think he’s been missing them all that much.”

“That makes sense,” she nodded through a mouthful of crumbling pastry.

Lucifer had expected her to stop eating altogether, or perhaps even take a second or two to process what she’s heard before reaching for another bite. In a matter of seconds, though, she was back to reading whatever book she’d snuck from his library, one hand on the page, the other on the toasted strawberry atrocity, completely unfazed. “It doesn’t bother you, then?” He frowned. “That you’re eating a dead man’s pop tarts?”

“You ever had long pig?” She asked seemingly out of the blue, not looking up from the open book on the table.

He arched a brow, tugging on the lapels of his robe _(he wasn’t sure what human flesh had to do with anything, really, when he was just trying to start an innocent conversation about empty-caloried breakfast choices)._ “Can’t say that I have.”

Sabrina glanced at him knowingly and it was easy to forget that there used to be anger there _(now, there was only a silent tentativeness and an odd sort of surprise that she was actually willing to give him a chance)._ “Well, when you live in a mortuary with cannibalistic witches and the whole town’s general preference for closed caskets, you’re gonna have to stomach it once or twice.” Her lips tugged faintly at the thought _(she was never the most enthusiastic partaker – she usually avoided it when she could – but it was often amusing, the lengths her aunts would go through to sneak the so-called rare delicacy under her nose)_. “At this point, I’ve had dead man’s _everything._ Well, the good parts, at least. The more…unsavory pieces usually get sealed up in jars at the greenhouse.”

She held up another pastry to her mouth and Lucifer couldn’t say he wasn’t slightly horrified _(all he could think about now was that damned long pig, and – Oh Dad, he was going to have to throw away the perfectly good bacon in his fridge)_. “So, really, his pop tarts are the least of my concern.” She finished with a nonchalant shrug.

_(Occasional cannibalism wasn’t the type of easy morning conversation he’d hoped to share with his daughter, to be honest, though he couldn’t very well blame her for it. He’d stopped keeping tabs on his church after his deal with Edward, but ever since the insolent bloke found his way into an early death, he should’ve expected them to relapse into their old ways of flesh-eating and sacrifices, and now that he thought about it, probably those blasted goats again, too. He should probably look into that soon)._

“Right. Well,” he grimaced at the thought. “That’s a ‘no’ on stuffed pork chops for lunch, then, I assume?”

She made an amused sound from the back of her throat, and she could very well have been smiling, though Lucifer couldn’t quite tell with her face hidden behind that infernal book again. Nevertheless, it was the most positive reaction he’d gotten from her since they’d met, and he could recognize small victories when he saw them.

He squinted his eyes at the spine of the hardback, trying to make out whatever it was that caught so much of her attention _(It was either well-written or incredibly raunchy – there was no in between - if a teenage girl found it more interesting than the devil himself who was sitting right in front of her)._

“ _Novem tibi orbibus et de inferno,”_ Lucifer read aloud. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think, darling?”

He’d stopped by the study earlier to see what she’d taken, and noticed empty spaces in the shelves between Dante and Milton. He was expecting her to snag the first edition Shakespeares or maybe the scandalous personal journals of Emily Dickinson, but the more he thought about it, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that she went for something old and Latin and straight out of hell.

Sabrina scoffed, flipping to another page. “Well, you’re obviously not gonna help me open the gates. Might as well find new ways to help myself.”

_(So far, she’d read through two grimoires and three ancient accounts of the pit, but to no avail. They all followed the same basic pattern – eternal anguish, torturous demons, lost souls – and the writers only ever seemed to see the place because of a quick brush with death, which, as she’d recently discovered, wasn’t applicable to her for more than a few seconds. Maybe she’d have better luck with the Sumerian scrolls she found stacked beside Lucifer’s desk, but even those would be tricky to translate without Ambrose’s help. All in all, it was safe to say that her research had hit a dead end at the moment, but she’d sooner take a wrecking ball to the Greendale mines than admit that to her glaringly unsupportive father)._

Lucifer sighed and reached for a cigarette on the kitchen counter _(he made no move to light it, just kept the lone stick dangling between two fingers)_. He should have expected that she would find a way to circle things back to hell _(quite literally)_ until she got what she wanted. She was his daughter, after all. Still, it was six in the bloody morning and he hadn’t had his vodka-laced coffee and _did she really have nothing better to do with her time?_

“Look, Sabrina…” He plucked the ancient tome right out of her hands, and she looked up at him, affronted. He set it on the far side of the table, beyond the reach of her non-celestially short arms _(thank you, Diana),_ and the girl only slumped back in her chair, arms crossed and glaring at him with all the heat of a thousand charred park muggers. “I had a little chat with Maze yesterday, and she told me how you wanted to come to L.A. for a vacation. Wind down and see the sights and all that.”

“She _what?_ ” The witch snapped.

_(Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have rambled off to a demon about her vacation plans if she didn’t want her father to know. Yeah, Maze was funny and cool and liberal with the expensive champagne, but at the end of the day, she still worked for Lucifer. It was pretty stupid of her to overlook that, even for the few short minutes when there was nothing but bad country music on the radio and the demon asked her what she was doing in Los Angeles)._

“Now, don’t be mad at Maze, she was just doing her job,” Lucifer said placatingly, holding up a finger. “You should be more mad at yourself, really, wasting a perfectly good day reading this…” He gestured vaguely at the Latin tome. “This drivel.”

“Need I remind you, that _drivel_ belongs to you!” She bit back, brows furrowed. “Besides, do you really think _you_ should be the one telling _me_ to be mad at myself? Technically, I should still be mad at you!”

_(“But I’m not.” The unspoken words hung in the air. Stupid dream wiping and Egyptian trivia and annoying cannibal jokes. “Dammit, why the heaven am I not?”)_

Lucifer exhaled slowly and tried to fight against the growing urge to just gather up all of his hellish books and set them on fire _(maybe then, Sabrina would give it a rest, though he had a sinking feeling she’d just walk straight into the flames and try to salvage every page she could)._ “Listen, witchling,” he ran a hand down his face. “I’m well aware that once you set your mind to something, no force in heaven, hell, or otherwise can stop you.”

Sabrina gave him a conflicted look, not quite sure where this was going. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Glad we agree on that. Seriously, though, I just want to get back to my research.”

She made a move to summon back the book with the twirl of a finger, but Lucifer only caught it mid-air and tucked it under his arm. With a sly grin _(she was good, but she’d never dealt with the devil)_ , he used his free hand to fish a chrome lighter from the pocket of his robe and finally light the damned cigarette between his teeth. He was almost the spitting image of Aunt Zelda, Sabrina thought disturbingly, leaning smoothly against his seat and puffing out gusts of smoke, satanic book pressed to his chest _(granted, the Spellman matriarch would have a satanic bible, but close enough)._

Lucifer caught the cigarette between two fingers before pulling it away with a practiced ease. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to set your mind to something else, though, darling. At least for today.” He gave her a pointed glance. “Because the answer is no.”

_(Now. Now, he’d gone full Zelda.)_

The witch scrunched her brows with all the air of someone who wasn’t used to hearing the scandalous word. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I _mean,_ ” he pressed on, “you can always go back to your hellish research another time, but you won’t be here for very long, will you? So why don’t you take a break from the pandemonium that is, well, Pandemonium...” he tossed the book clean over his shoulder for dramatic effect and Sabrina rolled her eyes. “And do what you came here for?”

_(If she wasn’t so caught up in her promise to give him a chance – that, and the fact he could probably take whatever earthly thing she threw at him – he would be covered head to toe in spiders and she’d be halfway back to Greendale by now)._

“I came here – well, in this kitchen anyway – to eat some breakfast and read in peace.” She ground out, irritated, pushing away from the table and stalking over to wherever it was the tome landed. His floors were impeccably clean _(Maze mentioned yesterday that it was less magic and more six sexy cleaning ladies named Stella)_ but she dusted off the leather-bound cover just the same when she bent to pick it up. “Not to have you terrorize me an hour before therapy. Dr. Linda’s going to hear about this, by the way.”

Lucifer did a double take at that _(the doctor must not have thought much of him already, what with the child abandonment and less than forthcoming approach to secret spawn)._ “Now, that’s just uncalled for.” He gasped, offended.

_(She was pretty sure it was impossible to offend him, in any case, being the most irreverent entity she’s ever met, but even if she did, she would count it as more of an achievement than anything else)._

She gave her best saccharine smile before dropping back into her chair. “Can’t say you don’t deserve it.”

“Come now, don’t tell me you’re enjoying this. Shackled up at home reading books like some bizarre cat lady.” Salem hissed at him indignantly from under the table and Lucifer actually peered down and hissed back. He promptly looked back up with a smug expression when the demon stalked behind Sabrina’s feet in surrender.

“This is Los Angeles, darling, our city.” He grinned wickedly, hands spread out in invitation. “Might as well have a little bit of fun.”

The girl scoffed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think you and I have very different definitions of fun.”

Lucifer thought back to her choice of drink _(his favorite name-brand whiskey),_ choice of restaurant _(Jean Claude’s only ever got its start because its owner asked for a favor),_ and perhaps most glaringly, choice of sinner punishment _(back when he sat the throne, demons were notoriously pleased with his hellfire-inclined torture preferences)._

“Do we, really?”

She leveled him with the straightest face she could muster, leaving absolutely no room for argument. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

He sighed aloud and took another drag from his cigarette. _(Sabrina could tell he was getting frustrated, exhausted – it was a familiar look in the Spellman family household – and she almost felt sorry, but at that point, her amusement over the whole thing won over whatever ounce of remorse she might have had)._ “Well, tell me what you want to do, then. What passes as fun for the likes of small-town teenage spawn?”

“I’m telling you, I’m perfectly fine where I am.”

Lucifer hated, absolutely hated, that he had to resort to extremes _(his Father did everything to the extremes all the damn time, and look where that got him),_ but it seemed as though the whole casual conversation approach was the exact type to get trampled over and burnt to a crisp by her inherent stubbornness.

“Sabrina.” She had already cracked open her book and would have gone on ignoring him again for a few good minutes, but there was something about his tone of voice that made her look up and meet his gaze. His eyes, a close mirror to her own, were dark and probing, and she couldn’t find it in her to look away. “What do you desire?”

“I…” The witch frowned deeply, trying to fight against her own mind that seemed to pick itself apart and push past whatever defenses she’s built over sixteen years. “I don’t-”

“Come on, darling, you and I both know you didn’t come here to dig through libraries and find a satanic Hail Mary to hell. So tell me. What do you _really_ want out of L.A.?”

Sabrina recognized what he was doing _(had all but mastered a slightly different version of it herself),_ and she should have known that her father was the source of her own uncanny ability. All along, she’d wondered why her aunties or Ambrose or any other kid at the Academy couldn’t do this fairly simple form of witchcraft, one that she picked up and used to her advantage from a young age. Now, it seemed like some sort of karmic justice, in a way, that for once in her life, she’d be on the receiving end of the same magic she’d cast on so many others before.

“I want…” She tried holding out a bit longer, however futile it seemed, but all at once, it was though a dam had broken and the words rushed out of her throat like they couldn’t wait to escape. “I want to see the ocean.”

“Excellent!” Lucifer clapped his hands together and Sabrina broke free from the trance, shaking her head in disbelief. “We’ll have a beach day, then.”

The girl pushed away from her chair, feeling slightly betrayed, if not outright surprised, that he would subject her to such invasive magic then carry on the next moment as if nothing happened. _(A logical voice at the back of her head argued that it was hypocritical of her to think so when she did the same thing all the time, but she just chose to ignore it. Listening was never her strong suit, anyway)._

“How did you…?” _(Okay, she knew exactly how. That wasn’t the right question)._ “What the heaven did you just do to me?”

Because whatever it was, Sabrina was convinced he must have done it wrong. She knew herself, she knew her desires, and _the ocean,_ of all things, had no place in her list of priorities right now. _(If she weren’t so furious, she’d ask him to do the whole thing all over again, just to prove he made a mistake.)_

By then, Lucifer was already typing away furiously on his phone, slightly distracted as his eyes squinted at the screen _(it was a rather cutthroat matter, trying to find an uncrowded beach in the heat of almost-summer California)_. “Oh, just a little bit of celestial – rather, _divine_ intervention, if you will.” He chuckled to himself before pocketing the device and shifting his focus back to her. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“You know, you can’t just go around-”

“Hold that thought.” Sabrina didn’t take too well to being shushed like a child, but still pressed her lips to a thin line when Lucifer held up a finger and glanced at the ticking clock on the wall. “Goodness, it’s already half past six. You’ll be late for your therapy session.”

She held back an irritated growl. “I don’t care if-”

Her voice was drowned out by the sound of metal scraping against marble as Lucifer got up from his seat to hastily stub his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “Trust me, darling, Dr. Linda may seem rather mild in temperament, but you wouldn’t want to keep that woman waiting. I made the mistake once, and it’s cost me an inbox full of disappointed voicemails and a rescheduled appointment timed right to a bachelorette party that she bloody well knew I was looking forward to.”

He pulled the robe even tighter around himself before rushing to the bar to pour a shot of vodka _(he never did get that coffee, but at least he could say he didn’t skip breakfast)._ “I swear, if she weren’t so brilliant, she’d do just as well a job tormenting poor souls in hell.”

Sabrina didn’t want to let him off that easy _(this was the second time he’d used unwarranted magic on her in a span of two days, and both times, he’d left her feeling conflicted and agitated and just plain confused)._ Still, the young witch actually liked Dr. Linda, and Zelda always taught her that the greatest sign of disrespect was the waste of someone’s time. Now, she might have been raised in a cannibalistic mortuary, but it wasn’t a damn barn.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

Lucifer was already halfway across the living room, but his steps slowed to a steady halt when she spoke. Slowly, he turned around, looking almost plaintive, with a grin that could only be considered as fond sitting on his alcohol-tinged mouth. Sabrina wondered if it was another ploy to play with her emotions.

“I figured as much.”

If things were different and Sabrina wasn’t so caught between _not-quite-hating_ and _not-quite-liking ­_ him, that would have been the time any other father playfully mussed his daughter’s hair and she responded with an eyeroll of mock annoyance. As things were, he was not any other father, Sabrina was glowering halfway across the room, and the way her eyes rolled almost to the back of her skull was too sharp to be anything but exasperated. He shook his head lightly before turning on his heel and retreating to his bedroom to get changed.

Once she was the only person left standing in the kitchen, Sabrina turned to Salem with a small scoff. “Can you believe that guy?”

The demon, for one, was watching their whole exchange with a growing amusement all the while. His mistress could deny it all she wanted, but it was clear as day that whatever delicately-strung balance of evasive conversations and hell-induced arguments that the devil and his daughter once held had now shifted. Sure, Sabrina was incensed and untrusting as always, but this time, she laughed and smiled and actually held back from setting things on fire _(literally, metaphorically, and in every other sense of the word)._ For the first time in a long while since he’d been ripped out of Theo’s warm, overfeeding arms in Greendale and thrust into the unexpected, yet long-overdue, chapter in the Morningstar family saga, Salem was feeling hopeful.

He purred in agreement before Sabrina scooped him up into her arms and stalked back into her own bedroom.

_(Now, she had to go pack a beach bag and enchant some sunscreen and – goddammit, why couldn’t she desire a nice, airconditioned movie theater, instead?)_

* * *

Dr. Linda almost grew dizzy watching the supposed antichrist pace back and forth across the room, every bit as antsy and restless as her father as she recounted the very frustrating events that occurred over breakfast. _(And to think the doctor only asked, “How was your morning?”)_

“-and then he did this whole desire hypnotism magic thing, which was very rude by the way, and he just…I don’t know, he caught me off guard.” Sabrina dropped into the sofa with a resounding groan. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have said something stupid like seeing the freaking ocean!”

“So you’re upset.” The therapist said. “Is it because he used his powers on you?”

“Yes.” The teenager answered a little too quickly. Linda cocked a brow at her, and the girl sighed, putting her hands up in surrender. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Why is that?”

Sabrina sat up straight, suddenly having to think the question through. “I guess…it’s not so much the magic that I’m mad about. I mean, I grew up with witches, you know? It’s not exactly out of the ordinary for us to use our magic on each other every day.”

_(It would be weirder, really, growing up without Hilda lacing their honey cakes with truth potions whenever Sabrina and Ambrose were caught in a lie, or Zelda sealing the doorways when they fought so the girl would learn not to walk away from an argument)._

She wet her lips, brows furrowed as she tried to piece it together herself. “So maybe it wasn’t the question that got me, maybe…maybe it was my answer.”

Dr. Linda leaned forward _(she didn’t know if it was because Sabrina was still technically mortal, or if she was just taking to therapy that well, but at the rate they were going, she might actually reach a breakthrough faster than any other celestial that’s ever sat on her infamous couch)._ “Yes. Yes, this is good. What bothered you about your answer?”

“Well, it was a dumb answer! And it came out of nowhere!” She gestured wildly with her hands, eyes wide. After a few good seconds, she threw herself against the backrest, throwing an arm over her face. “God…or Grandad or whatever, my greatest, deepest desire is to go to _the beach?_ When I’ve got a boyfriend trapped in hell and a coven in shambles?”

The doctor sighed and readjusted her glasses. “Sabrina, why did you want to come to L.A. in the first place?”

The witch lifted her head slightly to look at Linda with curios eyes _(She didn’t know what the doctor was doing, circling back to this all over again. Didn’t they move past the whole vacation plan thing on their first session?)_ “Well, like I told you yesterday, I just wanted an out. At least for a little while.” She shrugged. “I needed a change of pace, a change of scenery. L.A. seemed good a place as any.”

_(Linda tried not to think about how her reason to visit the city of angels was from the exact same cookie cutter mold that Lucifer used to justify his own escape from hell)._

“And what do you think that has to do with your desire?”

Sabrina scoffed back. “Trust me, doctor, I wouldn’t be here if I knew.”

_(Very Lucifer, indeed.)_

“ _I think_ ,” the therapist began, “the ocean was a perfectly reasonable answer.” The teenager frowned at that, but thankfully didn’t interrupt, unlike a certain someone Linda knew. “You wanted something different, something to take your mind off things. You mentioned yesterday that Los Angeles was the polar opposite of Greendale, especially with its sheer number of beaches. Is it possible that it’s not really about the ocean, but what the ocean _represents?_ ”

Sabrina blinked. “Possibly, sure, but…” She scrunched her brows. “Would I really put it above my family? Above Nick?”

“For the longest time, you’ve put the people you love first. And that’s a great thing. But what if, after everything that’s happened, at the back of your mind, this is your way of putting a pause on the things that hurt and telling yourself you deserve a break?”

The witch’s face had grown conflicted, and for the first time since the teenager came marching in that morning, the room was met with complete silence. The doctor was convinced that Sabrina was on the verge of a very important realization, and all it took was one last push, one last lingering second for the silence to work its magic and-

A loud buzzing erupted from the teenager’s pocket and she quickly shook her head, whatever train of thought she was having abandoned as she patted at the sides of her skirt. Linda gave her very best effort not to pop a vein when Sabrina pulled out a phone and began typing at the screen.

“Oh.” The doctor said shortly, crossing her arms. “I thought you said you didn’t own one of those?” _(She was very impressed at that, too. It was rare to see teenagers walking around without a mobile device in coastal California)._

Sabrina sighed, still not looking up from whatever text message she was reading. “Well, I told Lucifer I didn’t need one. I mean, I did perfectly fine back home, just using the telephone to call my friends and mirror communication to reach my aunties, and that was just when I _really_ needed to. Usually, everything was close enough to walk, and all conversation’s better done face to face anyway.” She rolled her eyes. “But _apparently_ , things are different around here. He wouldn’t let me leave the house without one.”

“Well, I’m sure your dad has a point-”

“Hey, do you know how to read these weird emoji things he keeps sending?”

All of a sudden, Linda found herself staring down at a phone screen filled with a string of unintelligible symbols. She pulled away slightly so her eyes could focus better on the text – or _lack of it_ , thereof. “Devil sign, siren, stoplight, squad car…I’m sorry, sweetheart, but if I understood how your father communicated, he would have been out of therapy a long time ago.”

Sabrina frowned at the device. “I’m usually good at puzzles. Now that I think about it, he did say he had some business to attend to at the LAPD. Do you think I should meet him there?”

The doctor shook her head fervently _(as far as she knew, Lucifer was strongly against having anyone else, especially from the police, meet his daughter)._ “No. No, no, absolutely not. We had an agreement that he would pick you up right here after your session.”

“It won’t be much trouble, really. I’ve been there before. It should be familiar enough to teleport to.”

 _(Teleport? Now, that was new)._ “Sabrina, that’s not what I’m saying-”

Before Linda could even finish her thought, the witch had already mumbled a quick _“Lenuae Magicae”_ under her breath, and disappeared into thin air right in front of her. The doctor would’ve been in a state of shock, if it weren’t for the fact that she already expected the Morningstars to somehow draw the completely wrong conclusion from every single conversation they had.

She rubbed a hand against her forehead before reaching for her coffee cup. “That family will be the death of me.”

* * *

Sabrina managed to arrive right at the precinct’s doors without anyone noticing. All the officers in uniform were either hunched over their desks, chatting by the water machine, or hurriedly walking across the room with stacks of paperwork in their hands. Still, in a sea of navy blue and crisp white work shirts, there was no sign of the perfectly-tailored designer suits her father seemed to have a preference for.

As she kept walking further into the office, she caught sight of a vaguely familiar leather jacket and quickly raised a hand to wave at its owner. “Detective Espinoza!”

Dan was still busy putting together a file for the Massachusetts case Chloe was working on, and was actually on his way to his desk to make a few calls when he heard someone calling out to him. He whipped his head around and saw the girl from the other day’s park altercation case standing in the middle of the station.

_(She looked fairly different now, thank goodness. Well-rested and less shaken up, though he had a sinking feeling that she might have been here on account of another arrest)._

He dropped his folder on the table and squinted at her just to make sure he had it right.

“Sabrina?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day to any of you who might be celebrating! If she weren't so blatantly dead, I'd wonder what Diana Spellman would be doing for her special day today. Hell, she'd probably be tagging along with her stubborn daughter all the way to L.A. just to make sure Sabrina won't get into any trouble.
> 
> Anyway, I know you were kept waiting a bit longer than usual for this chapter, but I've just had the worst case of writer's block I've ever encountered, and I seriously hate that I couldn't write all this out sooner. If it's any consolation, this, so far, is the longest chapter I've ever put out, and there were definitely a lot of things going on that I hope you guys have enjoyed. In any case, I know you can already guess what to watch out for in Chapter 18 (*cough* the long-awaited LAPD introduction *cough* beach day). 
> 
> As always, till then, keep safe, stay inside, and leave some love through much-appreciated comments down below (your support is my main drive in keeping this story going every week).
> 
> Thanks for reading, and have a good one!


	18. Hypnosis-Mojo-Magic Trick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but don't forget to share some love on the comments section down below if you've enjoyed any part of this chapter. Writing, unfortunately, is a very taxing machine that runs exclusively on support and motivation. Thanks a lot, and happy reading!

Sabrina hadn’t really spent that much time with Detective Espinoza, but the ten-minute drive from the park to the precinct the other day was enough to convince her that he was a good person _(She wasn’t really up for much conversation then, so the man took it upon himself to fill the awkward silence with what he hoped were funny stories, and constant reminders that everything would be okay. Of course, the latter seemed to be more for his sake than hers, but the witch was glad to hear it all the same)._

“What are you doing back here?” Dan frowned, sneaking a glance at her hands to see if she was cuffed again. “Don’t tell me you get into more trouble.”

_(Alright, the detective knew that the teenager wasn’t behind the incident at the park – he had a team of very confused lab techs who seemed to agree so – and for all intents and purposes, maybe she was just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t as innocent as she let on, and that broke his heart the slightest bit, knowing that kids these days couldn’t just be kids and they had to walk around dragging a hidden weight behind them. Just look at Trixie, for God’s sake)._

“What? No!” Sabrina sputtered, giving him a critical look _(Satan, you get arrested once and everyone thinks you’re some sort of delinquent)_. She stood on the tips of her toes and craned her neck behind him to take in more of the crowded precinct. “I just…I was just wondering if you could help me look for my father.”

 _(There was something to be said at how she didn’t just use the word ‘dad’ like every other teenager, but that seemed like a conversation for another time)._ Dan crossed his arms. “You think he’s been arrested or something?”

The image of Lucifer in his well-pressed suit, harassing fellow inmates and whining behind bars entered the witch’s mind, and she couldn’t quite help the small smile that crossed her face. “Huh. I wish.” She snorted. The detective looked faintly alarmed at her reply, but she was too busy scanning the place to notice. “But no, nothing like that. I was told he works here.”

Dan was about to ask why a child would want their parent in jail, even as a passing joke _(kids in happy homes would hardly even entertain the idea)_ , but he dropped the thought entirely when he heard the rest of what she had to say.

He raised a brow. “At the LAPD _?_ ”

When Chloe told him that Sabrina’s dad picked her up, he’d expected one of those burly, tatted up men who drank too much alcohol, or the polished CEO types who spent more time at the office than they did at their houses, or you know _,_ just _one_ of those guys whose kid seemed most likely to end up in a holding cell. Definitely not one of their own boys in blue who kept family photos in their wallets and always tried to get home in time for dinner. Dan, for one, was pretty friendly around the precinct _(before all that corrupt cop notoriety, anyway)_ , and he tried to remember all the other officers’ kids whenever they brought them up in passing conversation. Now, he could be wrong, but he definitely would’ve recalled a pale, white-haired Sabrina wandering into the annual family picnics, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of tanned teenagers who just usually huddled in one corner with their drinks and overpriced phones.

Sabrina shrugged one shoulder. “Not full-time, I think. You know, he hasn’t really explained it to me yet. All I’ve gotten so far are mixed messages from very emoji-heavy texts. I mean, for a grown man, you’d expect _some sort_ of cohesive conversation, but apparently, even that’s too much to ask for.”

( _Funny. There was only one person besides his nine-year-old who Dan knew used way too many emojis in text messages. Granted, said person also took the time and effort to use the alphabet every once in a while, but that was only ever to spell out the words DETECTIVE DOUCHE in big capital letters)._

Dan shook his head. No, it had to be some sort of coincidence. _That guy_ definitely didn’t have any kids. Okay, maybe a couple dozen scattered across L.A. _(you can’t have that much sex without leaving behind a trail of illegitimate children)_ , but none that he actually acknowledged in fear of cramping his solitary bachelor lifestyle.

“I’m probably wrong about this, and I hope to God that I am,” the detective chuckled, bringing a hand up to scratch at his jaw. “But when you say father, you don’t possibly mean-”

Just then, Sabrina caught the flash of a chrome flask being tipped back by a very tall, very loud individual chatting away in Queen’s English, and it was hard to mistake him for anyone else _(how many British day-drinking employees could one Los Angeles precinct have anyway?)._

She waved Dan off with a distracted flick of the wrist. “Nevermind, I think I found him. Thanks anyway.”

The teenager adjusted the strap of the red leather messenger bag on her shoulder and ran off in the general direction of the interrogation room, Dan caught off-guard when she suddenly brushed past him. For someone with such short legs, she was deceptively fast, but the detective still managed to catch up with her just when she was about to go for the large double doors.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? You can’t go in there!”

There was authority somewhere in his voice, and to his credit, it probably worked well enough with mild-mannered civilians and law-abiding citizens, though growingly-impatient antichrists generally didn’t fall into the same category. The girl tried circling around him with a roll of her eyes _(there was only one authority she answered to, and that was Sabrina Spellman),_ but the detective caught her gently by the crook of her arm and held her in place. “Seriously, kid, I’m not messing around.”

_(Now, she wasn’t about to start lying to herself. If she really wanted to dodge Detective Espinoza, she could’ve easily knocked him out with a well-placed spell or just teleported into the room, all without breaking a sweat. But as things stood, using her powers in public was the exact reason she landed in LAPD custody in the first place, and she wasn’t about to make her second arrest any easier by already being in their precinct.)_

The witch yanked her arm free with a light groan, shooting her best Zelda-brand glare towards the man. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, and Sabrina couldn’t quite deny the slight rush of satisfaction that came with the sight _(still got it, Spellman)._

“Look, detective. I’m not messing around, either. My father just sent me a very confusing text, and for all I know, he might be dying.” The girl said matter-of-factly, though she very well knew that all chances of the devil even getting a papercut was virtually non-existent. Still, Hilda didn’t raise a liar _(not a bad one, at least)_ , so she kept two fingers discreetly crossed behind her back all the while. “Now, I just saw him walk through these doors barely ten seconds ago, and you’re telling me I can’t even go in there and make sure he’s okay? I mean, I skipped out on my therapist just to be here!”

Exaggerated conclusions? Casual therapy references? At that point, Dan was pretty sure he knew who her father was, and it should’ve been surprising, but it only ended up making a lot of sense the more he thought it through. She seemed relatively harmless _(he liked to believe the precinct wouldn’t spontaneously combust in flames within the next few minutes);_ still, the idea of another Morningstar left a bad taste in his mouth. He liked Amenadiel enough, sure, but _man,_ that weird family didn’t need any more expanding.

“Yeah, I don’t think your dad’s about to start dying anytime soon.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. _(“Unfortunately,” he almost added, but that seemed a bit much to say, even to the child of the most narcissistic jackass he’d ever met.)_

“Come on, Detective Espinoza. Please?”

Beside him, Sabrina was really selling it with those puppy eyes, and it sort of reminded him of his own daughter _(then again, Trixie only ever asked for chocolate cake, not demanded to talk to annoying police consultants who were currently in the middle of an active murder interrogation)._ Still, if this really was Morningstar’s kid, she’d probably go ahead and do as she pleased, either way, so as he saw it, that only left him with one possible option.

“I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?” The detective sighed, running a hand down his face. His eyes flickered back up to Sabrina who was looking at him expectantly, somehow already knowing that she’d get her way _(last time he checked, smugness wasn’t supposed to be genetic)._ He exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Okay, fine. But first, you’re gonna have to come with me.”

“Is this your really sad way of telling me I’m being arrested again? ‘Cos if it is, you did a much better job last time.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “No.” Sabrina watched curiously as he pushed open a door adjacent to the interrogation room. It was drab and unobtrusive enough that she hadn’t noticed it before, but then again, so was everything else in that boring building. “You just have to trust me on this.”

* * *

“So, Andrew Polanski…do you know why you’re here?”

Their latest suspect, a man in his late forties with graying hair and an unnervingly calm smile, only leaned against his cold metal seat and stared back at Chloe. An APB on him had been put out for a while now, and either by dumb luck or some horrible misstep on Polanski’s part, a couple of beat cops waved him down for speeding just when he was about to skip town earlier that day.

“Can’t say that I do, detective,” he clicked his tongue, far too amused for someone who’s just been accused of first-degree murder. He played with his thumbs, held tightly together by a pair of freshly-slapped cuffs. “Care to enlighten me?”

One look at him and most officers could tell that he was the tricky kind. Charming, passive, borderline psychopathic, probably, if they actually had the resources to call in a mental health expert at the last minute to dissect his issues. Every dragged-on lecture and overpriced textbook at the Police Academy advised caution and well-chosen words when dealing with the exact sort.

It had to be noted, however, that Lucifer Morningstar attended no such Academy. _(There were running bets around the precinct, in fact, on where he actually graduated. Chloe begrudgingly stood by Wharton. Dan’s money was on some random party college upstate)._

“Most certainly,” Lucifer cut in, leaning forward and grinning widely towards the man before the detective could even think to answer. She only shook her head and let him be, already familiar with how most of their interrogation sessions went. She was pretty much resigned to the whole good cop – worse cop routine by now. “Slit necks? Box cutters? Pretty little club girls stuffed in the boot of a disgustingly outdated sedan? I mean, this must ring _some_ bells, shouldn’t it, Andy?”

Polanski glanced at him, unimpressed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know, with the staggering number of times I’ve heard that excuse in this room, one would think we’d have some sort of scoring system in place by now.” The club owner said dryly.

“Lucifer,” Chloe hissed from beside him. Her partner always seemed to have a general disregard of time, seeing as he apparently had a lot of it, but _other people_ had better things to do with their day. Including, but not limited to, finally closing the Brenner case, and going on an off-the-books manhunt for an allegedly mass-murdering Massachusetts priest.

“What? It’s bloody brilliant!” He retorted, looking wholly pleased with himself. “We can hang a little scoreboard by the door. Mark down every ‘I don’t know’ and ‘You’ve got the wrong guy’ with one of those red pens.” Lucifer had his scheming face on, the kind that suggested he was completely convinced he had a good idea, when in reality, it was almost always the exact opposite. “To make things somewhat interesting, the first to a hundred could even get, say, a piña colada.”

At that point, the smile had been wiped clean off Polanski’s face, and he was only frowning at the unnecessarily-enthusiastic police consultant, not quite sure if this was another one of their psychological warfare interrogation tactics. Across from him, Chloe sighed audibly and buried her face in her hands.

“You drive a hard bargain, detective. Very well. _Two_ piña coladas.”

“ _Lucifer_ ,” the woman ground out. “Focus.”

Dan took a step back from the two-way mirror and looked at the teenager beside him. “What’d I tell you?” He jutted his chin out towards her father, the suspect all but forgotten as he argued the necessity of tropical cocktails. “Not dead.”

Admittedly, it was against protocol. He could have just led her to a chair and asked her to sit and wait like everyone else. She might’ve pushed and prodded and made a scene befitting of the Morningstar name _(Maybe then, the connection would’ve felt more tangible, more real, despite her uncharacteristically short stature and lack of expensive jewelry. God knew he never saw Lucifer without his ring, or Amenadiel without that odd-looking necklace),_ but she was in a _police_ station. She would’ve had no other choice but to listen to the police.

Against better _(and evidently, all)_ judgement, though, Dan somehow thought that bringing her to the observation room just on the other side of the two-way glass was the most logical choice. She said she wasn’t familiar with her dad’s job at the LAPD. What better way to introduce her than with front row seats right in the middle of all the action? _(Well, not exactly the middle, per se. He could get fired for that. More like a safe distance away behind a wall of military-grade protective glass, but other than that, it was arguably the same thing.)_ Besides, it seemed like a much lesser evil than having her barge in while the adults _(as much as Lucifer could be considered an adult, really)_ were grilling a soon-to-be convicted felon. It was a simple case of killing two birds with one stone.

Or so Dan thought.

Sabrina made a little humming noise, eyes still focused on the quickly-escalating scene in front of them. “Not _yet_ , you mean. Detective Decker looks like she’s about to strangle him the second they get out of there.”

He turned his head at just the right moment to see Chloe stomping on her partner’s leather-clad foot under the table. It was a gratifying sight, he had to admit. Maybe he should’ve sat in on these interrogations more often.

“Yeah.” The detective shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if the guy has any sense of self-preservation.”

And yet he had a kid. Some unknown force in the universe actually thought it was a good idea to make this man _(who, to Dan’s knowledge, never even owned a houseplant or interacted with a pet for more than 6 hours)_ responsible for another human being. It would’ve sounded like a sick joke, had the living, breathing proof not been standing right next to him.

Sabrina, it had to be said, looked strikingly normal. There was not an inch of her that suggested she was the daughter of a multi-millionaire, or that she had a cocktail mix of attitude problems that usually followed around teenage children of the rich and arrogant. _(Granted, she did manage to get arrested at sixteen, but since she’d been all but cleared of the charges, it didn’t really count, did it?)_ Maybe her mom was just smart enough to keep her from that life.

Of course, now that brought up the question of who her mother actually was _(a few hundred scantily-dressed candidates came to mind)_ , but trying to unravel that thread just seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Where Lucifer was concerned, it could be any number of things, really, from an angry ex-wife to a careless one-night stand _(gun to his head, though, Dan would most probably bet on the latter)._

Whatever it was, Sabrina’s parents obviously weren’t together, and considering he was raising a child from a broken home himself, the detective knew better than to pry. It wasn’t any of his business.

Back inside the interrogation room, things were somewhat getting back on track _(as much as “on track” meant pulling whatever hypnosis-mojo-magic trick the club owner usually did),_ and from the corner of his eye, Dan saw Sabrina shift uneasily and step closer to the glass. Silently, he wondered if she recognized what Lucifer was about to do. _(He sincerely hoped she didn’t. Lucifer was tolerable at best and downright insufferable at worst, but Dan liked to believe he was decent enough not to pull that kind of crap on his kid)._

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were about to run, weren’t you, Andy?” Lucifer’s lips pulled back into a shit-eating grin, sly and catlike in a way that still managed to be inviting. Effortless as it seemed, Dan knew every inch of it was calculating and dangerous, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why it felt like sin itself to look away. “The question is, where were you running _to?”_

Polanski met him dead in the eyes and it was a testament to how hardened he was that he didn’t even flinch. “I wasn’t running. I was on the way to work-”

“Yes, because people normally put their houses up for sale and bring packed suitcases with them when they go to the office.”

“-when I got a call from a friend who needed help with some family emergency. _That’s_ why I was speeding.” He shifted his gaze to Chloe and spread his hands out on the table, cuffs digging into his wrists in a way that should’ve been painful but didn’t seem to bother him at the slightest. “His name’s Stephen Wyatt. You can check my call history and everything, it’s all there. He’ll vouch for me.”

“I’m sure Stephen has plenty to say, but unfortunately, this isn’t about the speeding.” The detective pulled out a photo from the case file and slid it to Polanski, tapping a finger against the glossy surface. “This is about murder. A double one, in fact. And unless your friend can explain why the victims were found in an abandoned car registered to you, it just seems a little too convenient that you’d be caught skipping town so soon.”

Dan could see Andrew’s jaw working as he stared at the photograph. It was damning stuff, for sure. He’d seen the photos when they were first brought in by forensics earlier that week, and though he’d witnessed worse things on the job, it didn’t make the scene of two girls barely out of college, blood trailing down their throats and gracelessly shoved into the trunk of a car, any easier to stomach.

“Which brings us back to my question,” Lucifer’s voice was practically dripping with milk and honey when he spoke, and it was enough to wrench Polanski’s gaze from the pictures and snap his eyes back up to the consultant. “You’re obviously quite done with L.A. Already planning to drive off into the proverbial sunset somewhere else, even.”

Andrew’s withering look suggested that he thought very little of sunsets, and, probably even less so, of the club owner. Thankfully, he was the calm-before-the-storm type who voiced his displeasure with heated glares instead of scathing words, because the last person who interrupted Lucifer’s little desire monologue before he could get to the point ended up crying all the way back to his holding cell, and Dan saw how Chloe nearly dug circles into the floor trying to explain _that_ to the lieutenant.

“So tell me,” Lucifer leaned closer. “What exactly are you chasing after? What do you _desire_ that’s no longer in Los Angeles?”

Dan watched Polanski pause, stiffen, fight that silent battle in his eyes that no one ever seemed to win. He almost felt sorry for the man, seeing his boundaries pushed and prodded with no more than a few seductively-said words, but he deserved it, didn’t he? If he was really responsible for the death of those girls? “I…I’m not chasing after anything.”

“Oh, come on.” Lucifer scoffed. “What is it, really? L.A. run out of lovely young women to disfigure? Off to try your luck someplace new?”

Dan had all but forgotten that there was anyone else in the room when Sabrina suddenly spoke out of the blue, jolting him to his senses. “He’s doing it wrong,” she mumbled under her breath.

He frowned, turning to look at her. She seemed perfectly unfazed, just staring across the glass with a vaguely critical expression on her face as if she were watching a campy TV show instead of a real-life murder investigation. “I’m sorry?”

She sighed and spent another second eyeing both Polanski and her father before facing the detective. “He’s doing it wrong,” the teenager repeated. “He’s not asking the right questions.”

“And what would the right questions be?”

He wasn’t Lucifer’s biggest fan, not by a long shot, but even he had to admit that the guy got results, dubious as his methods might have been. You sure as hell didn’t get the best closure rates in the precinct by _doing it wrong_.

Sabrina bit the inside of her lip tentatively, almost unsure if she should respond. She clearly had a lot to say but was holding back for some reason or another _(which Dan found somewhat surprising, knowing that the Morningstars were never ones to hold their tongue)._ Eventually, though, she ended up deciding against it and just shook her head, turning back towards the two-way mirror. “You’ll see,” she said instead, plain and clipped and _not at all ominous._

“Uh huh.” Dan nodded tersely.

“Look, I just want to get out of here!” Polanski snapped, hands slamming down heavily. The metal of his cuffs came down hard against the metal of the table, creating a clashing, startling sound that made even Sabrina jump a few inches back. “Before I end up dead in a ditch. That’s what I fucking want!”

It was an abrupt shift from his earlier demeanor, taking both the detective and the consultant by surprise. From the looks of it, Andrew had no idea where it came from either, immediately drawing back his hands and tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Apologies, that was…uncalled for.” He cleared his throat with all the air of someone who said something he wasn’t supposed to say, suddenly hesitant, furtive. _(Bastard was definitely hiding something)._ “If it’s all the same to you, I think my lawyer should be present for the rest of this conversation.”

“Now, hold on just a second-”

“Andrew, we can talk about this-”

Lucifer and Chloe’s voices began to overlap as they grappled with a way to get to him, but Polanski quickly shut them down with a pointed look. “I know my rights, detectives. It’s a counsel or nothing.”

The two interrogators exchanged a cautious glance, and with how long Dan’s worked with both of them, he could practically hear what they were thinking. _(Chloe probably wanted to coax the suspect with a few more well-placed words and see where that would take them. Lucifer, if his somewhat questionable track record was any indication, was just planning to shove Polanski’s head through a wall until he either talked or lost the ability to speak altogether)._

Chloe exhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes at Andrew. “Fine.” She pushed away from her seat, gathering up her paperwork and towering over the suspect in a move that should’ve intimidated him but only made him smirk in amusement. “We’ll get you your attorney, then you’re back in interrogation first thing in the afternoon.”

Lucifer looked as if he were still contemplating the prospect of testing the floor’s durability with Polanski’s thick skull when the detective tugged on his arm and jerked her chin towards the door. “Come on, Lucifer. Let’s go.”

“But detective-”

She didn’t have time for this. “ _Now.”_

As soon as Chloe managed to shepherd a begrudging Lucifer out of the room, Dan whipped his head towards Sabrina. She was still staring at Polanski, arms crossed and a contemplative look on her face. “You knew. You knew he wouldn’t budge.” He pressed, brows furrowed _(Because she had been right, hadn’t she? Sixteen years old and she already saw right through the whole damn thing)_. “How?”

She shrugged a shoulder as if it was all ridiculously simple. “You heard the man, detective. He’s scared. People don’t usually run unless they’re being chased.”

“Or _he’s_ the one doing the chasing.”

The teenager turned her eyes on him, finally pulling her gaze from the suspect. Dan almost wished he hadn’t said anything at all. _(She wasn’t just looking, she was scrutinizing, and he couldn’t exactly say it was the most comfortable feeling)._

“My father and I don’t agree on many things, Detective Espinoza, but the one thing we can both count on is that it’s very hard to lie to him. I think Polanski meant it when he said someone out there wants him dead. And that’s not something you should take lightly. Chances are, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“That’s a pretty bold accusation to make.”

Sabrina started towards the door of the observation room, and for the second time that day, Dan found himself trying to keep up. _(Jesus, what did Lucifer feed this kid?)_ She tipped her head at him as soon as they were out in the harsh fluorescent lights of the main precinct floor. “Maybe. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

He could see where she was coming from, he guessed. Lucifer’s little mojo thing often made people admit things they normally wouldn’t say out loud, and based on Polanski’s sudden outburst earlier, he was definitely no exception. Dan just couldn’t imagine what was so damning about admitting he didn’t want to end up dead in a ditch. Most people didn’t want to, either, so why bother being so sketchy about it? In fact, if he did just go out on a killing spree, it was a given that a lot of angry families would have a target on his head. It didn’t mean he was innocent.

“I don’t know, kid.” Dan scratched at the side of his neck, eyes on his feet as he made the tedious journey back to his desk. “It just doesn’t add up. We’re gonna have to do a little more-” The rest of his words fell through when he looked up and realized that the teenager was no longer walking beside him. “Sabrina?”

He stopped where he stood and looked around, expecting her to be a few steps behind him or maybe already at some desk or another, distracted by something bright and shiny like her dad always was. “Sabrina?”

A few meters away, he spotted the interrogation room door swinging closed. It should’ve been wide open by now, if the beat cops already went and escorted Andrew Polanski back to his holding cell. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to still be inside. Unless…

_(His stomach filled with dread when he finally put two and two together and realized where the teenager went)._

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dan didn’t know he could run so fast, but in a matter of seconds, he was banging on the large double doors, twisting at the handles and pushing at the metal surface. “Sabrina! Goddamit, you better open this right now!”

“Or what? You’re calling the police?” Her teasing voice came out muffled from the other side.

“This is not a joke! Do you know how much danger you’re putting yourself in?”

God, he couldn’t believe it. The teenager actually went ahead and locked herself in a room with a murder suspect, just because _she thought_ he was innocent _(You know what? He took it back. That girl was a Morningstar through and through, and he didn’t know how he ever doubted it in the first place)._

He kept pounding at the door even as he realized a crowd of officers and employees was beginning to form around him. _(What the hell was she even planning to do in there? Just sit politely and ask the right questions like she’d said? Polanski was accused of taking down girls no more than a few years older than her. Even if the guy was cuffed, a short and skinny thing like her didn’t stand a chance)._

“Don’t worry, detective. I’ll try to make this quick. Just do me a favor and keep it down. It’s kind of hard to concentrate with all the yelling.”

He tried ramming down the doors with his shoulder, but they barely even budged _(The stupid things held up exceptionally well for cheap building materials. God, it was as if they were magic or something)._ “No! Get the hell outta there!”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Chloe push through the sea of onlookers, Lucifer trailing closely behind. “Dan, what’s going on?” His ex-wife prodded, frowning in the direction of the interrogation room. “Who’s in there?”

He sighed and glanced between the two, finally leaning against the doorframe in defeat when his arm began to go numb. “Sabrina,” he said pointedly, gaze landing on Lucifer.

The club owner stiffened for a moment or two and Dan could almost see the gears working in his head. The detective was getting hopeful, he had to admit. Maybe if the guy realized how much danger his daughter was in, he could burst into the room with his irrational strength and drag Sabrina out of there before she ended up doing something she would regret.

Lucifer, of course, had to go ahead and dash those hopes as soon as he opened his obnoxious mouth.

“Sabrina?” He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why on earth would she be here, of all places?”

“She said she was looking for you because you sent this text message-” Dan shook his head and threw his hands up. “Look, what does it even matter? She’s locked herself in there with Polanski, who, in case you forgot, is accused of murdering two other girls! I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but don’t you think you should at least _try_ and stop her?”

Lucifer huffed in amusement, not at all the picture of a man who’s just been told his kid was in danger. “Bold of you to assume I can actually tell my daughter what to do.”

Dan stared at him, bewildered. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna…do absolutely nothing?”

“No, no, I’d like to see how this plays out, actually.” He had that scheming glint in his eye again, and it did nothing to ease Dan’s growing urge to call Child Protective Services on him _(assuming he still had a child at the end of all this)._ Lucifer glanced at the pair of them with the same smug grin he seemed to have reserved for every damn occasion of his life. “This should be quite fun. If you’ll excuse me…”

The club owner straightened his suit jacket and pushed past them, leaving Dan and Chloe to watch his retreating figure as he disappeared into the observation room to just…stand idly, apparently. Dan exchanged an alarmed look with the other detective, and the woman immediately started kicking at the door, pure parental instincts taking over. _(Lucifer obviously didn’t give two shits about his own kid, but they sure as hell wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself)._

Inside the room, a sharp yelp cut through the air and Dan felt his heart jump straight into his throat _(Whatever happened in there, it was fault. Christ, he should have never dragged Sabrina into this)_. He whipped his head around and stared wildly at the officers gathered around them.

“Don’t just stand there, someone get the fucking keys!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet she's not so harmless now, is she, Daniel?
> 
> Hey guys, it has been a busy two months ever since I started working again, and I really really hate that I couldn't put this chapter out sooner. The whole "Sabrina-uses-her-powers-on-a-suspected-murderer-and-drives-the-precinct-crazy-in-the-process" idea has been sitting on my mind for a while now, and I've been wanting to write it for the longest time, but my muse somehow always escapes me everytime I find a precious few hours to sit in front of my computer without thinking about work.
> 
> I know that none of you are particularly interested in my personal life (neither am I, most days), but I've been writing for the local paper again and teaching a few online journalism classes, and let me tell you, creative writing is an absolute pain when your mind has grown used to reporting and editing day in and day out. It's like I can't even write anything outside of the damn inverted pyramid structure of news writing, and it. is. driving. me. insane. Downside of print media, I suppose.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was actually supposed to be much longer, but I decided to cut it into two because the length of this thing is just getting out of hand. Fret not, because I promise that the next one won't take another two months. It's actually sitting in my drafts, partially-written, and should just take another two weeks at most. Can't have you guys waiting too long again.
> 
> As always, leave a comment down below, hit that kudos, and subscribe to this story so you never miss an update. You can also find me on tumblr @keeping-up-with-the-morningstars. Stay safe everyone, and till next time!


End file.
